


Cold Hands

by Melda_Burke



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action/Adventure, Baby Groot is the cutest but also a little shit, Cutthroat adventurers and space pirates, Don't copy to another site without my permission please, Eventual Romance and Smut, F/M, Mild S&M, Slow Burn, Yondu Udonta Lives, Yondu has more kinks than he has fingers to count them on, he never died what are you guys even talking about? shhhh, treasure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-14 02:24:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 63,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melda_Burke/pseuds/Melda_Burke
Summary: Yondu's hired you on as his resident mechanic to look after the cheap hunk of space-junk he's piloting until he can afford a better ship. Between the raiding, occasional privateering jobs, and narrow escapes from the Nova Corp, a friendship prospers, which naturally grows into something more.





	1. Warm Heart

Yondu tapped his booted foot impatiently against the frosted grass of the backwater planet he was currently stranded on. His ship had been badly damaged in a skirmish with a Galactic Trade Federation scouter just outside Lycransic space. Fortunately, he’d limped into port here after barely wrestling the half-wrecked ship through a hyper jump to land them far from the local GTF usual stomping grounds and beyond the jurisdiction of the Nova Corp. More fortunate still, the native people of this godforsaken half-frozen rock were not in the habit of asking questions. They were happy enough to simply be paid for their work and leave him to his business.

A young mechanic approached him cautiously. She, like the rest of her people, was tiny and lithe. She was dressed in fur-lined boots and a thick coat, and her pale-skinned face was smeared with dirt and oil from her work. “We’ve just about finished the repairs, sir. My father has figured up the cost of both the labor and replacement parts, so if you would be so kind as to follow me.”

He kept silent because he had nothing to say to the girl and he wasn’t overly fond of unnecessary conversation. He occasionally caught her glancing back over her shoulder at him, but he ignored it. This planet was out-of-the-way and she probably hadn’t even met many people from other areas of her own galaxy. 

The girl’s father was the leader of the trio of mechanics, all of whom stood near the hull finalizing the repairs. He was the tallest of the three, as well as the bulkiest, with muscles that bulged beneath the heavy coat he wore. His hair was whiter than the creamy shade his comrades sported; an indication that he was maybe getting on in years. He regarded Yondu with deep-set, dark eyes that were encircled with the same black markings as the others. When he spoke common speech his words were awkwardly pronounced, but still discernible. “800 credits is the total payment.”

Yondu quickly counted out the amount and didn’t bother attempting to haggle. He made to turn away when the young woman suddenly asked him to stay. Curious, he paused to watch her speak urgently with her father in their native tongue. Clearly, they were arguing, but Yondu couldn’t be sure of the reason. The older man seemed frustrated and occasionally cast suspicious glances his way before his daughter would draw him back to the conversation. Finally, it appeared that the girl had won because her father sighed, and then drew his arm across his sweaty face before nodding. 

She turned her attention back to Yondu. “Sir, I would like to petition you for employment aboard your ship.” She snapped down into a bow with her hands folded neatly behind her back. She held herself stiffly, respectfully, in that position.

“Lady, you ever been off this planet?” He cocked an eyebrow at her skeptically.

She hesitated before answering. “No, sir.”

He rubbed at his jaw, nearly cussing when he realized that the frost had coated the stubble around his mouth and under his nose, and shook his head. “I ain’t lookin’ for someone who took off their training wheels last week.”

She pulled out of the bow and looked him straight in the eye. “Sir, I’m not bragging when I say that my father is the most accomplished mechanic in this province. I’m young, and admittedly inexperienced, but my work is second only to my father. He has been training me since I was able to walk. I have talent and twenty cycles of experience to go on.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the ship. “There are scars in the metal of your ship that are consistent with the mounted arsenal used by GTF ships.” 

She smiled deceptively cheerfully at him. “I can also tell that this ship has been repaired over 100 separate times. If you gave me enough time to properly examine it, I could probably describe the extent of the damage done on each occasion. If you were to leave and the GTF… or say… the  _ Nova Corp _ were to stop by in search of you, I’m sure they would be elated to hear about your visit here.”

He chuckled and crossed his arms. “You threatening me, snowflake?”

She shook her head and grinned. “No, sir. I simply need a job.”

He thought hard about it as he took a closer look at her. The hood of her jacket had fallen back to reveal a short cascade of silvery, curly hair that had been pulled into a tight braid to keep her hair out of her face while she worked. When he met her gaze once again, he noticed she shared the same void-black eyes with her father and found they now burned bright with considerable determination.

He frowned to himself as he mulled over everything she’d been able to tell just from a few dings to his ship. Yondu didn’t pin her for a fool; she probably had some guess as to the type of crew she was asking to join. She had guts, which was something he could respect. “I’ll cut ya a deal, snowflake. Ya tell yer dear ol’ daddy tah lower the price by 150 credits and tah keep his mouth shut ‘bout all’a this. If he’ll do tha’, I’ll hire ya.”    
  
He held a hand to shake on it, but she only stared at him in confusion. “Why are you extending your hand like that?”

He furrowed his brow at her. “Have ya never shook a man’s hand?”

She gave him a strange look. “It’s our custom to refrain from touching anyone outside our immediate family or betrothed. Obviously, you have no such social constrictions, however, my father might misunderstand. I’d suggest you refrain from attempting to touch me because it would be construed as extremely rude.” She quickly added. “If this gesture is required to complete the hiring process, I’m sure my father would allow it with his supervision..and with gloves.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He shoved his hand back in his pocket and waited while she explained his proposition to her father. Big Daddy, as Yondu had mentally nicknamed him, huffed a bit and glared at him. Yet, he could already tell her father was going to allow it; the little lady clearly had her daddy wrapped around her finger.

She beamed up at her father and stood on her tip-toes to flutter her eyelashes over his cheek before facing Yondu once again. “He’s agreed to the new price and will advise his workers to forget you. When do we leave?”

“You’ve got an hour to pack up.” He replied before turning away. “Welcome aboard th’  _ Hispaniola _ , snowflake.”

She chewed her lip anxiously. “My name isn’t ‘snowflake’, sir, it’s-”

He carelessly cut her off. “Yeah, an’ I ain’t no ‘sir’.” He boarded the ship, but stopped just inside the hatch and pointed at her with a scowl. “It’ll be _Cap’n_ _Yondu _tah you from now on.” 

He watched her nod meekly and dash back toward the small collection of buildings that must have been her village and smirked. It would definitely be a hell of a lot cheaper to have a residential mechanic as opposed to have to make a pit stop every time the ship was busted up. He’d have to let the crew know that she wasn’t to be messed with or bothered. The little snowflake was an  _ investment _ .    
  
After losing his previous ship, as well as most of his clan after the bullshit with Ego and nearly fucking  _ dying _ , he’d had a rough fucking time of it. Fortunately, Kraglin was still kicking, too, and together they’d used their remaining credits to buy this junk bucket of a ship before taking on several new recruits on Contraxia half a cycle back. With this new mechanic, he hoped he could keep the  _ Hispaniola  _ spluttering through a few jobs until he could afford an upgrade.

“Kraglin!” He barked sharply as he saw his Xandarian First Mate coming down the hall. 

“Yeah, Cap’n?”    
  
“We got ourselves a new recruit; one’a them Icyklian mechanics decided she wanted tah join up. Looks like we got ourselves a resident mechanic.” He smirked proudly. “I cut us a deal wit’ ‘er daddy; she comes with us,  _ and _ he knocks off 150 credits. How’s that for a fuckin’ bargain, eh?”   
  
Kraglin blinked in surprise. “How did you manage that?” A live-in mechanic wasn’t usually a luxury most Ravager clans could afford; they mostly had to learn how to do simple up-keep themselves to save a few credits and only go to port mechanics as a last resort.

Yondu shrugged. “The li’l snowflake seemed eager tah kick off the planet, hell if I know why. She asked me tah take ‘er on, an’ I struck a deal wit’ ‘er.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Yer gonna make sure th’ crew knows she’s off-limits. No one lays a fuckin’ hand on the lady or I’ll put mah damn arrow through it.”   
  
“A’course, Cap’n.” Kraglin nodded curtly. He hesitated for a few seconds as he glanced around. “Uh… where’s she at?”

The captain jerked his head in the direction of the open hatch. “Gettin’ ‘er shit t’gether, like I ordered ‘er tah do. Gave ‘er an hour t’ pack up an’ board.”

“Right, I’ll go let e’eryone know.” Kraglin rushed off to follow up on Yondu’s command, while the Captain strutted proudly to the cockpit and plopped down with a massive smirk.

Sure, the girl would be another mouth to feed, but what was food compared to the credits he’d be saving? After a quick glance through the  _ Hispaniola _ ’s digital anthology of intergalactic information, he finally made it to the entry on Icyclia. He skimmed or skipped through most of it, mainly paying attention to what foods and drinks her people required and how much that could cost. 

He frowned when he passed over a bolded notation on her race’s page. Apparently, they were highly allergic to Zaxtarian bladderfish. What the fuck? Even Terrans could eat those bland, gritty things, and Terrans weren’t exactly known for their tough digestive system! “Huh, welp, guess I oughta tell th’ cook.” The fish were often used as filler meat in cheap foods, so it was a good thing he’d caught sight of that little tidbit.

He continued to scan the article, and took another brief glance at the exchange rate for credits to Icyklian currency and grinned even wider. It was 7.39 Icyklian polars to a single credit. “Fuck yeah.” He reclined in his chair with his hands tucked behind his head. He could pay the girl a living wage by her planet’s standards and  _ still save a fuckton _ . This just got better and better the more he thought about it.

He glanced at the forty-eight hour clock on the dash; she had ten more minutes to fucking board, but he hadn’t seen hide nor tail of her on the moniter that faced the unlocked boarding hatch. He continued to stare expectantly at it until  _ finally _ he saw the tiny figure plod up to the hatch with a small, etched leather bag. She pushed the handle in and closed the door behind her. “Jus’ in time, snowflake.” He chuckled to himself before popping out of the chair and heading down to see her.

When he found her, she was looking lost and disoriented. The poor thing was staring at the myriad of crosswalks, stairs, hallways, and various levels of the ship with a hopelessly confused expression. “Good tah see ya didn’t change yer mind.” 

She flinched at the sound of his voice and whirled around to face him. “You changed it!” She said, her tone close to accusatory.

“‘Scuse the fuck outta me?” He sneered back at her. 

She gestured around them both. “Normally, a Vrassian cargo courier has three levels, three main hallways on each level, and three  _ exceptionally straight _ crosswalks.” She pointed upwards at the makeshift lifts and pulleys, extra (and, admittedly, slightly cattywompus) crosswalks that had been soldered and bolted into place above their heads, and various other modifications. “This… this is a mess! Now I’m going to have memorize this entire place and it’s gonna be so  _ frustrating _ because I wasn’t expecting you all to have done this!”

“What’s so wrong ‘bout a few li’l mods?” He growled back. “We haul all kinds’a shit, lady! If we didn’t need all it all, we wouldn’t’a put it on in the first fuckin’ place. It ain’t like we put it there fer goddamned decoration!”

She huffed, but looked defeated. “You’re… right, I suppose.” She let out a small groan. “I’m sorry, I was just hoping I’d be able to find my way around straight off.”

He narrowed his eyes, but didn’t comment any further. “A’ight, well…whatever, let’s get ya’s tah yer room.”

“I still don’t understand the need for the extra crosswalks.” She mumbled under her breath, but Yondu reined in the urge to snap back. 

He led her through the twisting corridors, passed by the Med Bay, wound their way beyond the Commissary, and stopped short in front of the twin lines of doors that were meant as living quarters for the other Ravagers. “Lucky fer you, we have five empty rooms, so’s ya can pick which one ya like best.”    
  
He gestured her over to the final five rooms on the left-hand side and slid his personal datacard into each lock for her to have a peek inside. “I thought Ravager ships were typically a bit overcrowded?” She asked as she had a look around the first room.

“Yeah… well… ya caught us at a good fuckin’ time is all.” There was no way in hell he’d admit that he’d been working off of a skeleton crew up until a few weeks prior. He then realized what exactly she’d said and grabbed her shoulder. “How th’ fuck didya know we’s Ravagers?” He’d thought she’d be a bit more sheltered than that, considering how far out of the way her planet was.

“I’m not stupid.” She replied saucily before ducking out of his hold and moving to the next room. “Ravagers don’t come around here often, but they  _ do _ stop by once in a while. I don’t mind working with Ravagers; I’ve met a few of you who’re better than a lot of the officers in the Nova Corp.”   
  
“Ya ain’t just workin’ wit’ us.” He followed her inside, eyeing her as she wandered the third room and adjoining bathroom. “If yer part’a the crew, yer a Ravager, too.”   
  
“Me, a Ravager?” She giggled at the idea. “I appreciate the sentiment, Captain Yondu, but I don’t think anyone of your lot would accept me in that respect. I’m happy enough simply being the mechanic. I’m fairly certain you’ll find me to be completely useless at commandeering ships, stealing ancient treasures, and so on. I’m much better with a wrench than a weapon.”

“Yer a Ravager now, snowflake.” He corrected her harshly. “Don’t matter if ya think ya is or not. We’s all gettin’ the same treatment if we get caught. Ain’t no one in the fuckin’ noble-ass Nova Corp gonna see th’ difference ‘tween a Ravager an’ a mechanic who jus’ works on a Ravager ship.”

She paused for a moment, as this seemed to give her reason to think. “Yes, that would be characteristic of them.” She murmured.

“‘Ey, you ain’t thinkin’ of backin’ out on our deal now, are ya?” 

“No… not at all.” She shook her head. “But I suppose I  _ am _ as good as any Ravager to the law now, aren’t I?” She gave him a smile that seemed almost… prideful. “So, does that mean I get a neat outfit of my own?”   
  
“Wha’?” It took him a second to realize she meant his leathers, and that made him snicker. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll find ya somethin’. Fer now, though, we only got the standard-issue mechanic’s jumpsuit fer ya tah wear.”   
  
She made a face, seemingly displeased by that, but shrugged it off and turned toward the final room. “I like this one, please.” It was situated along the endcap, and, while it was relatively large compared to the rest, none of the other crew members were brave enough to claim it.

“A’ight.” He pulled a blank, red datacard from his duster, paired it off with his own Captain’s Master datacard, and slid both through the lock of the door. When he took them out, he gave her the newly coded datacard needed to open her door. “Go ‘head an’ unpack. You remember yer way tah the important places, right?” 

She thought a moment. “Uh...maybe? But if I get lost, I’ll ask one of the others for directions.”   
  
He sucked on his teeth thoughtfully for a moment. “Yeah, jus’... watch who ya ask. I warned ‘em not tah mess witchya, but that ain’t no guarantee. There’s always an asshole willin’ tah try their luck, in mah experience.” Despite having had his current crew for only a few months, he’d done as a good Captain should and made sure he paid close attention to his subordinates. Most of them were Ravagers with Stakar at some point and held tight to the code, but he knew of a few he’d be more than happy to give the boot once he could afford to.   
  
Knowing he couldn’t risk such a valuable asset, he reached into his duster for one of the many knives he kept tactfully hidden on his person. “A final word of advice, snowflake-” She looked up from her partially unpacked bag, and he flipped the knife to offer her the handle. “-don’t go 'round the boys when they been drinkin’. I don’t wanna hafta kill any of ‘em.” 

He laughed when she paled and rolled his eyes. “Jokin’, jus’ jokin’. Seriously, though, don’t go ‘round ‘em when they’re drunk. Hell, don’t bother  _ me _ when I’m drunk. You see alcohol, ya should go in th’ opposite direction. Understand?” She bobbed her head. 

“If ya need help wit’ somethin’, talk tah me or Kraglin. Preferably Kraglin ‘less it’s an emergency. He’s First Mate, an’ what yeh’d call a ‘nice guy’.” 

She tilted her head to the side and hesitated before taking the knife. “What does Kraglin look like?”

“Tall, skinny Xandarian wit' dirty blond hair an’ hazel eyes. Can’t miss ‘im.” He watched her awkwardly turn the blade over in her hands.

She noticed him watching, blushed deep blue and averted her eyes. “Thank you, si- I mean, thank you, Captain Yondu. I will do my best to avoid causing trouble for you. You have no idea what this means to me. If you hadn’t hired me, my family wouldn’t have been able to afford-“

“Don’t go getting’ sappy on me, snowflake.” He replied gruffly. Secretly, he hoped she could handle herself well-enough to survive with his ragtag group.“By the way, do ya know how to defend yerself at all?”

“Not really.” She admitted sheepishly. “Women aren’t taught how to fight in my culture. My father says it puts undue stress on our reproductive organs.” 

_ Well, damn. _ That was gonna make things a whole hell of a lot harder. “Sounds like load’a kangalor shit tah me, but, hey, what do I know? If ya wanna learn, ask me or Kraglin. In the meantime, keep that with ya all the time.” He took the knife back and showed her the precise way to place her fingers on the handle. “Hold it like this and jab out in a smooth, quick motion. It could save yer life.” He demonstrated a few times, handed it back and watched her mimic his motions until he was satisfied. 

“Anyway, some ground rules; no stealin’ from th’ rest of the crew, no gamblin’ while we’re on a job, no drinkin’ while we’re on a job, no whorin’ while we’re on the job. No double-crossin’ clients, ‘less we’re bein’ paid better by some other client to do it. Also, an’ this is specific to  _ you _ , try tah stay as close tah th’ ship as possible whenever we make berth. There’s lots’a shady shit goin’ down in the busier ports and traffickin’ happens tah be a huge part’a it.” He straightened up and took a step back into the hall, but she hurriedly got up and followed him.

“Whatchya trottin’ after me fer?” He demanded over his shoulder.

“Well, I should probably see the rest of the ship, right? Also, I’ll need to grab that jumpsuit you promised, but you’re the only one out of the two of us who knows exactly where that is.” 

“Fuck, forgot ‘bout that.” He shook his head. “Don’t really got the time fer that mahself… gotta go set up the autopilot, but I’ll tell ya what.” He led her further into the bowels of the ship, his boots clomping heavily on the rusty grates, and pressed his datacard against the scanner lock. “I’ll have Kraglin take care’a it.”

They stepped into the cockpit and he pressed a finger against the intercom button. “Kraglin, git yer ass up tah the cockpit on the fuckin’ double!” 

He turned away from the intercom and took a seat in his chair. “It’ll prolly take ‘im a couple’a minutes tah get up ‘ere.” They might as well pass the time with a bit of conversation. “So, you wanna tell me why ya decided to join up with a bunch o’ Ravagers?”

She appeared surprised by the question, but nodded. “My family is poor and my mother’s having a third child. I was the oldest, so I decided that I’d ask every ship captain who docked if they needed a mechanic.” She glanced towards the open door, where several crewmen could be seen passing by. “Thank you for explaining my presence to your crew. I wouldn’t want to be the cause of any… misunderstandings.”

He crossed his arms. “It ain’t usually a problem.” He was rather disgusted that he’d felt the need to have to worry about it in the first place. “Ravagers are assholes. We’re liars, thieves an’ we’ll shank ya over a fuckin’ sandwich. We’re pirates an’ do all the messy shit that accompanies the title, but we ain’t cold-blooded murderers or rapists. More importantly, we don’t fuck wit’ other Ravagers. We’s got a code, snowflake.”

“I understand, I simply don’t want to stir up any trouble.” She unbuttoned her coat and folded it into the crook of her arm. “I’m willing to put up with a lot. The only things I ask are for my boundaries to be respected and my belongings remain undisturbed.”

“Tha’s reasonable.” He nodded back and then snickered a bit. “Sure yer a woman? Ain’t met many  _ reasonable _ women in mah time.”

“I assume you’ve not met a lot of good women, then.” Her lips twitched into a shy smile. “That wouldn’t be surprising, if I can divine the type of company you usually keep from common knowledge regarding Ravagers.”

“You always use such big fuckin’ words?” He joked. “Might wanna dumb it down some; we ain’t idjits, but ain’t none’a us high-falutin’, fancy-talkin’ types.”

“If my manner of speaking is offensive, I can certainly keep quiet until I learn to mimic your lexical stresses and colloquialisms.”

“Our lexi-what now?” He furrowed his brow, but just as she was about to reply, Kraglin walked to Yondu’s side. “Took ya long ‘nuff tah get here.” He grumbled, and motioned toward the mechanic. “This is th’ lady I was tellin’ ya ‘bout. Take ‘er down tah the supply closet where we keep the jumpsuits an’ tools.”

“Can do, Cap’n.” Kraglin led her out the open door and down the hall.

Yondu was quick to shut the door after them and turn back to the controls. After consulting the holomap of the galaxy, he plotted out a route to a more pleasant place than this isolated rock. It was about time for him and the rest of the crew to have a small break. After that close call with the GTF and picking up the little lady mechanic, he figured everyone deserved it. He flicked the autopilot switch and reclined in his chair with a very self-satisfied look on his face. “Heheh, let the good times roll!”


	2. The Grate Neighbor

You’d been aboard the  _ Hispaniola _ for only a few weeks now, but had settled in quite comfortably. Mostly, you’d kept to yourself and used your working time to explore the ship. By this time, you had the complexities of the added stairwells, halls, and such memorized. A considerable number of the shortcuts led straight to the Commissary (not a surprising discovery), although the  _ one _ time you’d shown up there for lunch, you’d been escorted quietly out by Kraglin.

  
From that point on, he’d been the one to bring you meals. It made you feel… oddly sad to be separated off from the rest of them. You’d asked why that was, and Kraglin’s answer was simple; Yondu had explicitly ordered it. Kraglin wasn’t sure of the reasoning behind it, but he’d said it was probably because the Captain didn’t entirely trust a few people aboard. He’d mentioned you might be allowed to take meals with the crew after the stop on Contraxia, though, and so you held out hope.

It was hard to be alone in the meantime, however, and you’d often find yourself re-reading a few of the books you’d brought to entertain yourself. In fact, most of your luggage had been books. Maybe you could buy yourself more when the crew landed on Contraxia by entrusting a few credits to Kraglin? 

  
Right now, you were feeling the bitter bite of loneliness more than before. You’d already exchanged several messages through your Galacom from your family, but even that was starting to lose its appeal. The pre-recorded holograms weren’t at all a decent replacement for face-to-face interaction!    
  
As you were brooding over your predicament,you heard a sound echo through your nearly-empty room that caused you to perk up a bit. The person-who-shared-a-wall-with-you was back! It was always nice to hear that you weren’t  _ entirely _ alone. 

So, with nothing else to occupy your time, you stood up and moved closer to the vent. It was little more than a thick, metal grate with openings that were roughly three fingers wide. You crouched down to try to see through it a little, but the only thing you could see (the only thing you ever  _ had _ seen) was a pair of worn boots. You stared at those boots as they walked around the room, in and out of your line of sight, and debated strongly with yourself before giving in to the weakness. 

You grabbed a bit of paper and a pen, and set to writing out a short note. Surely, it wouldn’t matter. If he found out about it, maybe the situation could be smoothed over and you wouldn’t be punished or fired? It wasn’t logical to cut you off entirely from the crew, otherwise how would you know what work needed to be done without searching the ship top to bottom by yourself?

When you’d finished scribbling out your short letter, you rapped sharply on the vent to get the attention of your neighbor and pushed the roll of paper through one of the holes in the grate. You watched the boots approach the vent, and then saw a gloved hand reach down to take the note. You thought you heard a soft, deep chuckle and then the crinkle of paper.

Your heart beat wildly in your chest as you waited with bated breath to see if your neighbor would reply.  _ Please write or say something back! _

A few minutes later, you heard a quiet whistle and a strange arrow soared through a hole in the grate. It hovered in the air, barely inside your room, and seemed to wait while you unravelled your answer from its shaft.

** _Heya sweetheart,_ **

** _Nah, you ain’t bothering me. I ain’t usually in my room much except to sleep, but I been having a hard time with that lately. I was planning on staring at the wall until I fell asleep, but yeah… I don’t mind writing back and forth for a while._ **

** _Lonely, huh? That’s too bad. Get lonely myself sometimes. It’s tough, but the captain’s probably trying to look out for you. He’s a salty old fuck, but he does his best._ **

** _My name don’t really matter, but if you have to, just call me Mary Poppins. _ **

Mary… Poppins? What an odd name. You shook your head, but couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. The strange arrow stayed put while you quickly wrote out a reply. You knocked on the grate to let Mary know and a sharp whistle then recalled it through the grate.

Another short wait, and you were gifted a second note in return.

** _I’ve been a Ravager for a few decades. Haven’t really kept track of exactly how long. You like it so far? Who knows, maybe you’ll get your leathers soon as we get into port. It’s up to the Captain. Could always ask him for you, if you want. _ **

** _Yeah, you’ll probably be good to eat with everyone else after we take a break on Contraxia, at least for a little while anyhow. Heard your kind can’t eat a few things the rest of us can, that true? Must be pretty damn difficult to find decent imported food back on Icyclia. _ **

** _Nah, I don’t think we’ll get in trouble for talking, he ain’t that much of a hardass. Yeah, it’s nice talking to you, too, sweetheart. Haven’t had much time for a lotta friendly conversation recently. Been too busy around here for that._ **

** _Yep, the arrow is pretty special. Comes from my home planet. All’s I gotta do is give a few whistles and she does what I want. Ain’t much of them left these days. _ **

** _Got a sore throat, that’s why. Don’t wanna do no more talking than I have to. I blame all that freezing air I was sucking down on your frostbitten planet. Maybe we can see about talking some on another day._ **

You held the letter to your chest for a moment. Gods above, it felt wonderful to communicate with someone…  _ anyone _ … after so long. If you’d gone longer without real, meaningful conversation, you feared cabin fever might have set in! Once you’d composed yourself, you set about writing yet another short letter.

His reply came as speedily as the past two had, although you were somewhat disappointed by his answer this time around. 

** _No fucking way am I getting on my hands and knees to shove my face up against that dirty-ass grate! We’s just gonna have to meet some other time, little lady. _ **

** _Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, promise I’ll let the cook know not to serve you any of that bladderfish stuff. Anything else I need to tell him?_ **

** _What do you mean by touch-starved? Can’t you just ignore it until we get to Contraxia? Pretty sure you could meet a few willing people in a bar or something. That’s what the rest of the boys and I do; it takes the edge off._ **

You huffed a bit over this, but Mary had no way of knowing how vital these kinds of things were to your race. It seemed to you that, in your by no means  _ expansive _ knowledge of other species, touch wasn’t held in such reverence by many of them. Contrarily, your people reserved such intimate gestures as the caress of bare flesh to those closest to them. It was a privilege even for a close friend to give their permission. It was difficult to wrap your head around how casually the rest of the crew viewed such things, but that was the beauty of diversity; it definitely opened up one’s worldview.

And, of course, after ages of going without, you were starting to feel the inevitable, negative effects of touch starvation. Mild depression, anxiety, vulnerability to sickness and fatigue… all of these were the unpleasant result of an Icyklian being touch-starved. You weren’t happy about it, and you couldn’t simply ‘ignore it’.

You curled your next letter around the arrow and again knocked on the grate. After a short silence, another whistle sent his reply sailing through the vent.

** _Well fuck, if you need it so bad, I guess it wouldn’t hurt. I’ll take off the vent cap from my side, and you take off the cap on yours. Since you asked for this, you’re the one who’s cleaning the fucking vent before I go sticking my damn arm through it, got that?_ **

**** You got to work eagerly doing exactly that. It was a wonderful thing (and not lazy at all, hush) you always brought your toolbox into your room with you, as opposed to leaving it all the way down in the supply closet. You took a screwdriver to the six, heavy-duty screws and as you set about removing the grate, you could hear similar movements on the other side. You hurried through cleaning the vent until not a speck of dust or spinner webs could be seen.

With all of that done, you pushed your arm through and waited. For a few moments, you could only feel the chill of the metal beneath your fingertips. Soon enough, though, something warm found your fingers. Mary’s hand curled around yours, rough and relatively massive when compared to your own, and you let out a sigh of relief. The gentle, yet abrasive quality of their callused palm, the safety found in threading your fingers through theirs, and the reassuring rhythm of the pulse at their wrist… it made you start to tear up.

You were so far from home, and you’d never even been off the planet before. This simple gesture from someone you couldn’t so much as  _ see _ made your heart sing. You didn’t even register the whistling until you felt a careful prodding at your shoulder. 

  
The arrow was there with yet another message. The yellow metal seemed to wink at you as it levitated. You wriggled in such a way as to slip the bit of paper off to read it. The handwriting was messier this time, obviously written with a bit of difficulty.

** _Godsdamnit, your hand is fucking freezing. You got some kind of circulation issues or something? Shit, you could chill a fucking drink if you stuck your fingers in it._ **

** _Your hand is tiny as fuck. Figure I could break it if I squeezed just a little harder. Why in the hell’re you crying, I thought this was supposed to help? Hope this ain’t your writing hand cuz I expect a damn answer, woman!_ **

You grinned, sniffled, and stretched as far as you could to reach the paper pad and pen on your nightstand. You gave Mary’s had a squeeze as the arrow flew your note to him.

** _Crying cuz yer… happy? Anyone ever tell you how weird that is? Whatever. Just so long as you’re functional, I don’t give a shit._ **

** _So, I guess since I’m gonna be stuck on my dirty fucking floor for a while holding your damn hand, we should figure out some way to make it a bit more comfortable. You ever hear any Terran music? It’s just about the only thing Terrans can get right. I’m gonna let go for a second and put some on. _ **

** _Also, for gods’ sakes, grab a blanket or something. You’ll get stiff laying on the floor like that._ **

Terran music? What was a Terran? Presumably, they were some type of foreign species, but you couldn’t remember ever reading about any of them. Perhaps they were as reclusive as your own race. Either way, you didn’t mind hearing a bit of music.

Whatever he turned on over the player, it was soft and slow. It was surprising to know a Ravager had a taste for something so...sweet. You’d have figured something rowdy, loud, and easier to dance to would’ve been higher on the list; probably a tune along the lines of Garthorian flatulence mambo. 

Regardless of what kind of music he enjoyed, you were content with clasping his hand for dear life. Huddled under a blanket with your arm going numb and tingling from the strange angle, you couldn’t deny the way your heart swelled. You already considered him, this person-who-shared-a-wall-with-you who called himself Mary Poppins, to be a marvelous friend.

He may have been as tart as an unripe berry, but there was an undeniable hint of sweetness at the edge of his sour. As gruff as he might have seemed, he wouldn’t have given a darn about your comfort if he was  _ entirely _ grit and grumble. 

You fell asleep more easily that night than you had since leaving Icyclia behind, and over the next few days, you lived for the moments when you’d hear the heavy stomp of his boots. He came back to his bunk more often now, although never once did he speak. You inquired if maybe he should see the ship’s medic for his throat, but he always strongly refused. 

While you did think his choice to avoid a healer was silly, you couldn’t say it was strange enough to warrant suspicion. Your mother wasn’t a fan of them either, and so it was somewhat understandable. It still concerned you that this ‘sore throat’ of his was persisting for so long. It could be one of any number of possible illnesses, but you respected his wishes and didn’t nag Mary about it.

Instead of asking Mary questions he clearly didn’t feel comfortable with answering, you were more than happy to double down on your workload. For a load it was, as it had been a miracle this ship lasted as long as it had without you. It was typically easy enough to keep up with repairs; more often than not, it was just a matter of tightening loose bolts and removing lots of rust. You grew to know the ship like you knew yourself and soon understood every quirk. One such trick you figured out was that bashing the wall next to the hand scanner in the Commissary with a wrench would reset the scanner lock. That often saved you the time-consuming task of fixing the faulty scanner without opening the control panel

Today, you’d sniffed out a loose wire in the fusion core containment pod. The issue had set off an alarm earlier when ship was jarred by space debris. After fixing the problem, which was fairly simple and not at all as dangerous as it would sound to the average person, you ran into Kraglin who’d gone to thank you on behalf of the rest of the crew. This was because the blaring racket kept awake those who’d been scheduled to work third shift.

“There’s no need, sir. It’s part of my job.”

Kraglin shook his head. “Nah, nah, ya coulda got to it later than ya did. Fixed it ‘fore I could even find ya tah ask ‘bout it.” The heavy bags under his eyes spoke volumes to his gratitude. “It’s been doin’ that fer ‘round three months now. E’ery li’l nick or ding, an’ we all gets tah hear WHEE-WAH, WHEE-WAH, WHEE-WAH fer  _ hours _ ‘til somethin’ else hits us an’ kicks it straight ‘gain.”

“I’m glad to help. Now, really, you should go get some sleep.” You urged him along with a shooing motion.

“Bless ya, snowflake.” He was practically dragging himself back in the direction of the crew’s bunks. “I’ll figure out some way tah pay ya back, mark mah word!”

As the afternoon wore on, you finally decided ten full hours of scraping out old oil, replacing broken ladder rungs, and checking the air gauges was more than enough work for one day. After a long, hot shower, you lounged in your bunk listening to a hologram message from your father, when you were interrupted by a quiet, familiar knock. You paused the recording, curious because it wasn’t yet dinnertime, and opened the door.

You may not have marked Kraglin’s words, nor honestly expected anything in return for such a simple service, but apparently he took his pledge seriously, because he was waiting outside with a covered tray. “Know I’s a bit early.” He said with a conspiratorial grin. “But I figured I’d pay ya back by gettin’ ya one of the first trays off’a Gersh’s line. ‘S hot an’ fresh. Even managed tah nick ya a dessert.”

“Oh, thank you!” You beamed brightly back at him. “You’re sweet, you didn’t need to, but I appreciate that you did.”

“That ain’t th’ only thing, though.” He glanced over his shoulder and down the hallway. “Mind if I come in?”

“Sure, go right ahead!” You stepped aside, giddy with excitement. “Have a seat, it doesn’t matter where.” Finally, someone else who was willing to have a real conversation with you! 

He sat on the edge of your bed with a massive grin, and there was a gleam in his bright eyes that spoke of mischief. “Now, I know ya ain’t s’posed tah leave th’ ship when we dock at Contraxia t’morra, but I figured we could sneak ya off after e’eryone else’s gone.”

“But what about you?” You plopped down next to him with your tray in your lap. “You should get to have fun with everyone else.”

“Ah, ‘s a’ight, snowflake. We’s gonna be there fer more’n a day. I’ll have plen’y’a time tah have fun. ‘Sides-” He stole a piece of plantarnut bread off your tray with a devious smirk. “-I wanna see ya perk up a li’l. Ya been kinda wilted since we left yer planet.”

“Well, if the Captain would let me be around the rest of the crew more often…” You trailed off. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say anything. I like it here, I really do.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile. “‘S fine, I know. I read yer people’s entry in th’ database. Mus’ be pretty damn hard for someone wit’ touch-dependent physiology tah go racin’ ‘round the universe wit’out in’eraction fer long.”

“It’s difficult.” You confessed, your eyes darting momentarily toward the grate. “But I can manage. After everyone’s gotten their kicks on Contraxia, you said yourself I’ll probably be allowed around them.”

Kraglin’s jaw tightened. “Uh… yeah… heh, ‘bout that, sweetheart…” He looked at you with a deeply apologetic expression. “Cap was talkin’ the other night… changed ‘is mind, ya see... an’ he don’t feel comfortable lettin’ ya ‘round the crew ‘til we drop a few… uh… non-adherents off th’ roster. It ain’t  _ you _ . We’s jus’ tryna keep ya safe.”

“If he’s so suspicious of the men he takes on, why would he hire them in the first place?” Your tone was harsh, but you were frustrated and disappointed. You’d been hoping to make more friends! 

“They’s cheap labor.” Kraglin scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “We ain’t in a great place, money-wise. ‘S why Cap’n was glad tah have ya aboard; we need tah save an’ scrimp where we can.”

“Then why are we going to what is basically a pleasure-planet?!” You inquired. 

“Morale, darlin’.” He explained simply. “Yah never be a miser when it comes tah three things if ya want a crew tah be happy; food, alcohol, an’ sex. An unhappy crew’s a mutinous one. We’s already gone through that once, Cap’n an’ I ain’t eager tah have it happen again.”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down. “So, do you any idea when we will be getting rid of the undesirables?”

“Not a fuckin’ clue. Sorry.” He twisted a bit more to face you better. “Look, it’ll prolly be after a couple good jobs. Then, I’ll talk tah Cap ‘bout droppin off Venrick an’ his buddies somewhere.”

You forced a small grateful smile. “Thank you, Kraglin. I honestly appreciate the effort you’re putting in for me.” You polished off the last of your plantarnut bread and vegetable soup, then smiled upon uncovering the small bowl of dessert. “At least you and I can have fun on Contraxia together.”

“Yeah, tha’s th’ spirit.” He stole your spoon and the second-to-last mouthful of your cream pudding with a roguish grin. With one smooth motion, he dug it back into the pudding and zipped it right between your lips as you opened them to protest the theft. “Welp, I gotta start mah shift. Hope ya have a good night’s sleep tah rest up fer t’morra!” He looked genuinely excited as he took the emptied tray, bowl, and cup back with him.

By the Nine Circles of Pala-adine, that adorable man warmed your heart to no end.


	3. Pleasure Planet

Less than an hour after he’d left, you’d finished up your hologram, sent it, and were getting dressed for bed. A noise from the other side of the wall stopped you mid-way through wiggling into your nightdress; the sound of familiar footsteps. Immediately, you snatched up your pen and paper. 

As always his reply was borne aloft on that slender, golden arrow.  
  
** _Why the hell would I be excited? It’s just fucking Contraxia. Been there hundreds of times… a thousand times, maybe. Sure, there’s booze and working girls, but the best is getting to kick back and relax for a bit. Gonna get me a foot massage from a stripper while I knock back a few, that’s what I’m gonna do._ **

** _And you, you’re gonna get the whole damn ship to yourself. Women like privacy, don’t they? Captain’s asked Kraglin to lock her up tight as a nun’s pussy soon as everyone’s left. Should be plenty safe and private for you in here. You can take as long a bath as you want, and even eat in the Commissary for once. Know for a fact the cook’s gonna have plenty of pre-made meals for you while we’re all out._ **

** _I got a few extra credits laying around if you need me to pick you up something. Anything you want?_ **

You re-read the final sentence again to see if you’d misread it. Was he seriously offering you a gift? Your pen flew across your paper while the arrow waited. After you’d sent it back, you bit your lip as your heart dropped. You’d miss him badly while he was off drinking, getting massages from beautiful women, and probably starting (and violently ending) bar fights.

** _Don’t be so damn dramatic, I know you probably don’t have a lot of credits built up yet. Just tell me what you fucking want. It ain’t no big, fat, fucking deal to pick up one little thing. _ **

** _Yeah, I’ll hold your hand tonight. Don’t I fucking always? It’s practically a goddamned ritual by now. I’d charge you for this, if you weren’t a damn lady._ **

** _Stop worrying, woman. Goddamnit, it wouldn’t be fucking Contraxia without at least seven barfights in an hour. Have a little faith in me, I ain’t lived this damn long to die in a bar fight with some drunken dipshit._ **

You giggled to yourself. Ravagers had such a… colorful vocabulary. Mary especially had a few odd phrases and curse words he liked to toss around. The way he wrote made it feel as if you could almost hear his voice in your head. You could only imagine how amusing, yet wonderful, it would be to properly hear it.

** _A couple of books ain’t a problem. I’ll shove them through the vent whenever I’m back._ **

** _No, sweetheart. Told you before, my throat’s been killing me. I’ll talk to you when I’m finally over this damned cold. Now put your damn blanket on the floor and grab my fucking hand already. _ **

You tossed your blanket and pillow onto the floor with a wide grin. The arrow bobbed by your head with a welcoming thrum while you observed it. A glowing, red tail trailed behind it as it patiently floated, your face only inches from the sharp, pyramidal arrowhead. The way your friend wielded it, the weapon was more than simply a deadly tool. It was an extension of them, and it sometimes acted as if it were a physical demonstration of your friend’s emotions.

With that in mind, you reached up and booped the arrow’s tip playfully. “Cutie.” Less than two seconds later, you heard a series of fluttery whistles and the arrow reacted by zipping around your head happily. It nestled under your chin while you went back to writing, but was quick to zoom away with your response when you were done.

** _The metal’s called yaka, it ain’t gold. It’s more valuable than gold or platinum. Hell, I’d say it’s rarer than vibranium and only a little less durable than adamantium. No, it don’t have a mind of its own… it’s an arrow, not my fucking dick._ **

** _  
_ ** ** _Ah, just messing with you. It’s pretty damn easy to figure out how to fly it around your room. All these bunks are virtually identical, some are just a little bigger than the others for structural reasons. Gotta have damn good spatial awareness, but it’s second nature by now._ **

** _And if anything around here is fucking cute, it’s you, so stop molly-coddling the damn arrow._ **

Maybe you were reading too much into it, but he sounded almost jealous of his own arrow. Highly amused and shaking your head, you focused on sending your next letter. 

** _Damn right you’re cute, even in that ugly, ratty jumpsuit. I know cuz I know, sweetheart. I’ve seen you working, even if you didn’t catch me watching. Don’t need anyone on this ship knowing I bother with you. _ **

** _There’s a few dimwits who might think it’d be a good idea to try using you as leverage if they found out about all of this. Wouldn’t put anything past them. They’s nasty fuckers, but they’ll be gone soon enough. Don’t you let your guard down in the meantime. _ **

Kraglin’s words about a few bad apples in the crew re-surfaced. All this time, you’d been working away in relative peace, but was that solely due to avoiding the crew as the Captain, Kraglin, and Mary had warned? You weren’t so naive as to believe the ship was a _ safe _ place to be for anyone, yet it hadn’t really dawned on you until now; if your tough-as-nails Mary was concerned, then it probably was a good idea for you to be too.

Claws of fear pricked at the edges of your mind as you scribbled out a reply. His own letter came back a little faster than usual.

** _Nothing’s gonna happen, sweetheart. Ain’t no sense in being scared, I’m right here. If things go south, I ain’t got no problem getting a little more blood on my hands. _ **

Mary gave your hand a firm squeeze that made your heart swell. You brushed your thumb across his palm as your worry subsided. He was an amazing friend, and the longer you rolled that over in your mind, the more guilty you felt. Obviously, he’d be upset if he found out what you and Kraglin were planning on doing.

That night’s sleep came more fitfully than usual. The guilt, worry, and apprehension burrowed their way into your dreams. By the time you were finally jerked awake by a sharp jolt to the ship and an ear-splitting, buzzing alarm, you were exhausted and anxious. The cabins all around you were bustling with activity, and the noise was deafening even through your closed door. Men were hooting, whooping, and hollering at the top of their lungs as they surged toward the exit. It took a full half hour for it all to quiet down, and it was silent for another ten minutes before you heard Kraglin’s familiar, polite rapping.

“C’mon, we only got a few minutes. Told th’ Captain I was gonna make sure all th’ men left.” He rushed you along, occasionally shooting glances all around as if he expected his superior to pop around any one of the many corners. His body language was tense, arms crossed and back ram-rod straight, as he escorted you out of the loading bay instead of the main hatch. He made you wait for him there while he made a very visible exit out of the hatch before ducking around the side to collect you.

Happily, your own initial nervousness and lack of energy quickly ebbed. You’d long been curious to experience the brilliantly colored markets and explore the labyrinthine alleys that many ports consisted of. The thought of getting lost or taken, or r**ed or murdered or a myriad of possible horrendous things, had fled your mind in wake of Kraglin’s comforting presence. _ He _ at least realized it wasn’t a good idea to keep you sheltered.

He gave a wide berth to a manor-sized house located on a small, back-alley street. Several women of various galactic races stood under its pink and black striped awning. They wore a rainbow colors and styles of revealing silks and finely-dyed satins you’d never seen before. As he power-walked you by the place, one of the girls gave you a wink and blew him a kiss. Kraglin pointedly refused to make eye-contact and increased his pace in the direction of the market. “Don’t go wanderin’ off.” Kraglin advised as soon as he saw your distracted gaze flitting back to the grouping of ladies. “People don’t usually mess with Ravagers, but nobody ‘ere knows ya yet. Gotta stay in my sight at all times.”

“No arguements here.” You winced as a drunken, gray-skinned man was shoved out of a nearby bar onto the sidewalk. A burly, purple-eyed guy followed the first one out into the snow and the two brutish, tattooed dudes began to ruthlessly brawl. A crowd gathered around to watch, laugh, and place bets. 

Kraglin, utterly unaffected by the commotion, calmly led you around to the other side of the street. If a single thought of leaving him had crossed your mind, it was stamped down the moment you saw a tooth fly through the air and hit one of the on-lookers in the eye. You had zero intention of disobeying that gentle command. “Can we have a look at a few of those stalls over there?” You waited patiently for his permission. You had a plan to repay Mary’s generosity while you were here.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “A’ight, but make sure ya got yer hand on yer knife and stay outta the unlit alleys while we’s browsin’. If someone comes up to ya with a coat full of random shit, don’t buy any of it. Half’a it’s fake, th’ other half’s stolen.” He grumbled under his breath. He was clearly uneasy about this, but doing his best to make sure you had fun.

He made sure to stick to the well-lit booths of the bazaar, and, judging from the way he spoke with the vendors, he was on a friendly basis with the grand majority of them. Convinced you were as safe as was possible, you let your gaze drift over the wares of the plethora of stalls until your eyes landed on an unusual little stand at the end of the market.

The person behind the counter was an elderly, reptilian gentleman wearing a grimy, black and white pinstriped suit. He seemed to be polite and unassuming, and smiled at you when he noticed that you seemed intrigued by his selection. “Can I help you, young lady?” His common was accented by quiet hisses, pops, and vocal clicks.

You smiled up at him, for he was a good two feet taller than yourself, and shrugged. “I’m not really sure what I’m looking for, but I think I’ll know it when I see it.”

“Are you shopping for yourself or getting a gift?” He asked as he polished his spectacles.

“A gift.” You answered while letting your eyes run over the tiny statues, knickknacks, and figurines nestled under the glass in a soft, velvety cloth. Each carving was beautiful in its own way, but none of them really seemed like something Mary might like.

That was until you spotted the snowflake. The delicate thing had been carved from some type of bleached ivory and was exceedingly detailed. The center was home to a minute, aquamarine gem. It was delicately cut so that every facet made the best of its fire. “How much is that one?”

“120 credits.” He smiled kindly under his mustache. “Are you sure you’d like that one?” He chuckled when you nodded vigorously. “Hm, it seems fitting an Icycklian would buy this piece. Who is it for?”

The gift cost you a good chunk of what you’d saved up over the past two months, but it was more than worth it. “It’s for someone who has enriched my life.” You told the shopkeeper as you handed over the money. “I owe him so much.”

The old man took the sculpture, wrapped it in blue cloth, and placed it in a matching box. “Lovely, I hope he will be pleasantly surprised.” 

“You didn’t tell me ya met one’a th’ crew.” Kraglin remarked, clearly perturbed. “You ain’t s’posed tah be hangin’ ‘round unsupervised wit’ anyone, ya know tha’.”

“Oh, we’ve never actually seen each other. He’s my neighbor.” You grinned back at him conspiratorially. “He shares a wall with me. We send little notes through the grate all the time.” You tucked Mary’s gift away in one of Kraglin’s many pockets for safekeeping. When you stepped back, his expression had grown contemplative. “Something wrong?”

“Nah, nah…’s jus’...” He let out a quiet laugh. “I’s thinkin’ tha’ explains an awful lot.”  
  
You jabbed a finger at his chest. “You know him!”

He held up his hands defensively. “A’ course I know ‘im.” His hazel eyes sparkled. “Been a pain in mah ass fer years. Good tah know ya ain’t bothered by ‘im. Needs someone who ain’t ‘fraid tah be a friend to ‘im.”

“You’re not worried, so I’m assuming that means you know he’s a decent person?” 

“Yeah, more decent’n most, I’d say.” He smirked in a secretive way, and shoved his hands into his pockets to aid in the ease of weaving a way through the increasingly crowded streets. A multitude of other Ravagers had now flooded the dive bars, markets, drug dens, and various other establishments of ill-repute. “Anyway, we can probably get a li’l somethin’ tah snack on, an’ then ya oughta head back to the ship. Don’t wantchya tah catch anyone’s attention.”

He checked a few bars by peeking inside, glancing around, and leaving if he saw anyone familiar. The third bar was a decently lit and relatively legitimate looking place, but he shook his head and turned to you. “Figures Cap’n would be in that one.” He muttered before motioning you along. You tried to follow, but found your path blocked by a burly man.

He wasn’t unattractive or unclean in any way, but looking in his eyes gave you the distinct impression of unrefined oil. He wore the typical maroon leather coat with a Ravager emblem, and a pair of heavy metal disks stretched his earlobes halfway down his neck. His hair was a deep, nut-brown that contrasted with his algae-green skin.. “Hey there.”

“Uh, hi.” You tried to step around him, but he stepped right back in your way. “Excuse me, I-“

“Ya seem a li’l tense.” He reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched back. His resulting chuckle made a shudder run down your spine. “Lemme buy ya a drink. Name’s Lurk. Wha’s yers?”

You froze, realizing that the man wasn’t intending to let you go anywhere. Kraglin moved between yourself and the man. He was obviously doing his best to appear intimidating by crossing his arms and holding his head high, but he barely came up to Lurk’s shoulder. “Thanks fer th’ offer, but she ain’t thirsty.” His sudden appearance caught Lurk off-guard, and the opposing Ravager’s eyes flicked down to study a small patch on Kraglin’s jacket. After a moment, he growled in the back of his throat, but stepped aside. His scowl practically burned the backs of your heads until he was lost in the crowd. Kraglin pulled you close and crossed to the other side of the street to make a beeline for the ship. 

Once you were safely inside, Kraglin handed back Mary’s present. “Might as well just have lunch in the Commissary.” He said with false cheeriness.

“Thanks for standing up for me back there.” You shivered. “And for getting us by him without a fight.”

He scratched the back of his head, blushing. “Nah, ‘s fine.” He stepped into the kitchen to nab a couple of tray from the refrigeration unit and popped them both into the oven to warm up. “Prolly only let us go ‘cuz’a Yondu’s patch.” He tapped a tiny, embroidered ‘Y’ placed neatly below the fiery Ravager patch. “Cap’s got a bit of a reputation, even amongst Ravagers.”

“Really?”

He came back with the steaming trays. “Yep. Don’t ask for details, sweetheart. Wouldn’t wanna scare ya.”

“The Captain doesn’t seem all that frightening.” You mused as you chewed your way through a small portion of mixed vegetables. “He’s kind of loud… and rude, but that’s a given.”

“You ain’t seen ‘im when he’s really pissed, heh.” Kraglin cut off a corner of his mystery-meat steak and popped a forkful into his mouth. “Good thing, too. Don’t think he’d want a nice lady like yaself tah see that.”

“He’s not mean to you, is he?”

“Wha’, Cap’n?” He said around a mouthful of mashed, starchy gourd. “Naaah, I mean...” He shrugged slightly. “He’s kinda moody an’ bossy, but he ain’t _ mean _. Good way tah lose a crew is tah be a tyrant. Actually, I’d say he’s a li’l nicer than Stakar is, an’ Stakar’s real gentle-like for a Ravager.”

“Who is Stakar?” You peered curiously across the table at him.

“Cap’n Stakar’s one’a the one hundred Ravager Cap’ns. He’s th’ one what made Yondu a Cap’n. Only ‘nother one’a th’ Cap’ns can make a Ravager a Cap’n, an’ there can only be one hundred at any given time. Saves us from too much competition, ya see. If there were Ravager crews all o’er the place, ain’t none’a us gettin’ work.” He smiled. “Stakar made Yondu a Cap’n after his own mentor, th’ lady Cap’n Achelois, passed.”

“Oh, I see.” The more you learned about Ravager culture, the more fascinated you became. “It seems to me that being a Ravager isn’t as simple as being a pirate.”

“Nah, ‘s a lifestyle!” He said with pride. He plowed through the small hunk of bread on his tray, and then let his eyes trail upward. “Wanna see somethin’ cool?” He asked once he’d swallowed.

“As an Icyklian, I’ll have you know the coolest thing I’ll ever see is the woman in the mirror every morning.” You quipped back with a grin. “But sure.”

He burst out into snickers. “Good’un. Watch this.” He reached into his pocket for a remote covered in a plethora of small, color-coded buttons. Upon him pressing one, you heard the shrieking of metal scraping on metal and felt the ship shudder. Before your very eyes, part of the hull peeled itself back to reveal a type of skylight. Within moments, the pair of you had a clear view of the Contraxian afternoon sky. 

“Gods, that’s gorgeous.” Your mouth dropped open in awe at the wisps of purple-tinted clouds and distant city skyline.

“Yeah.” He sucked on his spoon as he followed your line of sight to a particular cloud. “Tha’un looks kinda like an arrow, dontchya think?”

“What? No, that is _ obviously _ a pencil.” You rolled your eyes.

“Pretty sure it’s an arrow.” He grinned and elbowed you gently in the side. “Looks kinda yellah tah me, too.”

“You should get your eyes checked. It’s very clearly a purple pencil!” His smile was incredibly contagious. He reminded you a little of your younger brother.

“A’ight, a’ight, if ya say so.” He laughed and took your empty tray back to load it into the industrial dishwasher. “I oughta head out. If none’a the others see me, they’s gonna start tah wonder.” He pressed a button on his remote once again and the hull began to slide closed.

“Oh.” You nodded. “Okay, thanks again for taking me out to see the sights!”

“Sure thing, snowflake.” He gave you a wave before heading off.

“Kraglin?” You called out again, and he turned on his heel with a questioning look. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

A silly, broad grin broke out on his face. “Absolutely.”

After he’d gone, you decided to take a healthy, post-meal stroll through the ship. Starting in the Commissary, you made a loop along the first level. Your last stop before heading back to your bunk was the cockpit. You pressed your datacard against the scanner lock and stepped inside.

It wasn’t a large room, merely big enough for a holomap projector and all the equipment required to control the ship. An empty charging dock built into the room-length dashboard was shaped like Kraglin’s remote, the Captain’s chair was cold and abandoned, and only the blinking controls of the life-support systems showed that the _ Hispaniola _was still online. You ran your fingers along the delicate, touch-control pad, then over the scanner that awaited the Captain’s Master datacard to bring the ship out of port.

However, the focal point of all of this was the collection of trinkets that littered the dashboard; plushes, plastic dolls, tiny puzzles… all of these were lined up alongside sculptures of precious metals and pieces decorated with gemstones from at least twelve different planets you could identify. You even spied a minuscule book with a fire opal chip set into its leather.

As you took in the decor, it wasn’t hard to see that Captain Yondu had made the space his own in every way possible. When you took a second glance at his chair, you could see that he’d gone so far as to have beautiful, swirling designs pressed into the thick leather. “What is it with Ravagers and leather?” You asked the empty room.

Well, at least he kept all of the bits and bobs in some kind of order -haphazard order, certainly, but order nonetheless. You pondered how long it must have taken him to amass such a vast collection during your trek back. The only question now was what should you do to pass the next few hours?

You got your answer in the form of reaching for the stairwell railing and having it snap right out of the wall. You hissed sharply as the jagged, rusted metal slashed the meat of your palm. “FOOMENTARI CROTCH WORMS!” It didn’t matter if you cursed on an empty ship, but inwardly you cringed as you imagined hearing your mother’s voice strictly reprimand you.

“Sorry, mom.” You mumbled as you made a sharp left turn in the direction of the Med Bay.

The cut was deep enough to require several stik-tack sterile strips to pull the edges of the skin closed and a splash of isopropyl alcohol. It still bled a little through the gauze, but the bleeding eventually ceased. The task afterward of cleaning up the trail of blood leading back down the hallway and stairs was difficult, but you knew the real trial would come in fixing the handrail with one hand.

Oh well, you had nothing but time. It didn’t matter how long that took you. In fact, it would be nice to have something to fill the empty hours that stretched ahead until the crew came stumbling drunkenly back to their beds. Hopefully when they returned, you could have the medic take a look, but until then… work.


	4. Come a Little Bit Closer

You were re-calibrating one of the lifts that evening when you heard an echo of loud, raucous laughter and clumsy footfalls. It didn’t sound like too many of the men were back; maybe ten or fifteen at the most, but you had to hope the medic was among them because your hand was throbbing badly. That _ might’ve _been your own fault for trying to work with a sliced-open palm, but what else was there to do?

You monkeyed your way down the railing, swinging from pulley rope to lift to pulley rope and dropped smoothly onto one of the second level crosswalks. Your cheap, salkin-leather shoes kept your steps quiet and unobtrusive while you kept an eye out for any of the of the crew. It sounded as if they were moving as a group, which made things easier for you. 

Upon turning a corner, you were greeted with the sight of four people who were making enough racket on their own to be counted as four times their actual number. They lingered outside the Med Bay, all of them in various states of injury, but grinning and joking nevertheless. You stopped and stared wide-eyed; many were sporting black eyes, broken noses, cuts, bruises, and all number of possible injuries. One was even gesturing about with half of his fingers bent _ entirely the wrong way _.

Out of all of these, Yondu stood out. His normally sapphire-pigmented skin was blushed to the shade of a stormy, choppy sea around his cheeks and his eyes glowed demonic scarlet against the darker backdrop the drink had given him. He was grinning broadly enough to make several of his capped, and jagged teeth catch and play with the light, but that immediately dropped to a frown when he saw you. “Whatchya doin’, woman?” He all but snapped at you before crossing the hall in a few long strides. “Thought I told ya-”

“Sorry, sir.” You held up your poorly wrapped hand. “I just came down to see if you’d brought the medic back with you.”

His mouth thinned to a scowling, irritated line. “How in th’ hell do ya manage tah get injured on a fuckin’ _ empty ship?! _ **”**

“I was coming back from lunch and trusted a stairwell handrail that I obviously shouldn’t have.” A few of the men quieted down. Some of them had interested expressions, while others were merely drunkenly leering, but all of them were smart enough to stay where they were. “What about you? What happened?” You motioned toward your battered crewmen, and then caught sight of one who appeared especially uncomfortable. “My gods, is that really a pool cue through your arm?!”

“Well, ‘s only a _ piece _ of a pool cue, ma’am.” He replied nervously as Yondu turned around to pin him with a ferocious sneer. 

“Shuddap, I was addressin’ ‘er first!” He barked his reprimand, then returned his attention to you. “Kraglin got ‘imself into a bit of a disagreemen’ wit’ some Karothish fella o’er a lady.” Yondu smirked. “Started a fight tha’ spanned three bars!” He waved you ahead of him. “Go on an’ git in ‘ere. Getchya patched up good an’ proper.”

“‘Ey, wha’ ‘bout us!”

“Yeh’ll shut yer trap an’ take it like a fuckin’ man, tha’s what.” The Captain snarled. “Ain’tchya heard’a ‘ladies first’?” 

The sole medic aboard the _ Hispaniola _ was beefy and surly with a wholly questionable medical license pinned to a white(ish) coat worn over his Ravager uniform. The effect was that of a strangely overgrown toddler playing dress-up. He did appear to know what he was doing, however, as he bustled back and forth between Kraglin’s cot and a counter full of various medical tools.

“Kraglin, are you alright?!” You rushed to his side to better see the damage done.

“‘M fi-fine.” His voice cracked a little as he tried to lift his head up. His eyes were unfocused and dilated. He tried to speak again, but the second he opened his mouth, he nearly tipped over the edge of the bed as his body shook with the force of being sick all over the floor. He coughed, spluttered, and apologized, but all you were worried about was him. “Jus’... got a cha...chair cracked o’er mah he-head, tha’s all.” 

You eyed Yondu, who was busy growling at the group out in the hall, before leaning down to whisper. “It wasn’t the guy from earlier, was it?”

“Yeah… yeah, it was.” He spat on the floor again, and groaned as he rolled onto his back.

“Kraglin, I’m _ so _ sorry.” You frantically petted his shoulder to try to soothe him in some way.

“Nah, naaah…” He started to shake his head, but then appeared to think better of that. “‘S fine. Yer pretty, didjya know tha’? Like… _ super _ pretty.” He reached up to try to grab at a lock of your hair that had swung in front of his face and batted at it. “Heheh, _ pretty _. Pretty like… like a fish.”

“Thank you?” You were about to say more when a pair of blue hands settled firmly on your shoulders to push you roughly into an examination chair. You winced at the bright, mobile light that was swiveled to shine into your face. “Um… it’s my hand that’s hurt, Mr. Medic, sir. Not my face.”

“Captain wants a full-body checkup.” He grunted, and then hauled you over to a scale. He glanced down at the Informapad. “Said ya fell down some stairs.”

“That is a hyperbole. I didn’t fall down a flight of stairs, I grabbed a handrail and it broke.” You let out a quiet puff of air through your nose. “Really, it’s only my hand and it doesn’t hurt all that much.”

“Tha’s wha’ they all say. But I’ll take yer word fer it.” He said dismissively before taking your injured hand surprisingly gently. He unraveled the gauze and took a look at the ragged cut before picking a vial of blue gel and a packet of some sort of powder. “Those stik-tacks ain’t gonna cut it. Gonna hafta glue it or it’ll keep tearing open ‘gain an’ get infected.” He poured the toenail fungus-yellow powder into a glass dish and scooped out a measure of blue gel. Once they were combined, he held the resulting green muck over a flame until it became goopy. “This’ll sting. Sorry, darlin’.”

He wasn’t wrong… he was _ lying _. The glue burned like gloopy hellfire had been poured into your wound. You let out a loud yelp as soon as it hit your skin, but the medic paid no mind. He simply went about his business by pinching the wound closed and counting under his breath to ten. Once that was done, he neatly re-wrapped your palm and gave you a few doses of pain pills to last you a week before going right back to tending to poor Kraglin.

He shot the First Mate up with something silvery, mopped up the dried blood across his face, and bandaged every single scratch until he appeared as good as a mummy. He grumbled over the vomit, but grabbed a box of a flaky substance to absorb it, and then quickly swept the mess up to be disposed of in a bio-hazardous waste receptacle. 

Kraglin blinked slowly down at you as the pair of you hobbled out the door. He finally seemed to register that Yondu was standing just outside and squinted at him. “Oi, Cap’n. Whatchya still doin’ there?”

“Guardin’.” His lips peeled back over his teeth in a rippling scowl. His eyes rolled over you both from heads to feet before pulling himself away from the doorway. “A’ight, ya shits. Go on an’ get fixed up.” 

He snatched Kraglin’s arm and threw it over his shoulders. “C’mon. Let’s getchya tah bed, boy. Sleep it off.”

“I… I ain’t tired, Cap’n.” Kraglin protested, looking incredulous and also fairly confused.

“Too bad.” He retorted, and practically hauled him along the floor to the bunks. Kraglin wasn’t well enough to shake off the help, and actually looked relieved when they finally reached his room. Yondu pushed him onto the bed and glared at him while his First Mate struggled to take off his shoes. Finally, when he’d made sure he was trying to sleep (“Close yer fuckin’ eyes, boy!”), he stormed out to tow you back to your room as well.

“I apologize for making you angry.”

He halted, then spun around. “What makes ya think I’s angry?”

“Well, you’re yelling for one. Two, most people frown when they’re angry.” You fiddled with the frayed cuff of the mucus-colored jumpsuit. “Three, I’m sure I see a vein pulsing in your temple.”

“I ain’t angry.” He glowered at the floor. “I don’t need tah ‘xplain mahself tah you. I’s the Captain here, an’ I says I ain’t angry!”

“You still sound quite angry.” 

He started out with a loud growl that died off as soon as he realized you were teasing him. He stared slack-jawed for a couple heartbeats before busting into loud guffaws. It must’ve seemed so silly; two people laughing over nothing in the middle of a hallway. The snickers and chuckling faded, but he was smiling now. It struck you how different he looked that way; his eyes crinkled and his irises glowed bright under the dim, artificial light. “Get tah bed, snowflake.” He said it like an order, but his smile made it feel like a concerned suggestion. 

“You, too.” You said softly, but he’d already turned away.

You did go to bed, but only for a short nap. You dozed restlessly, tossing and turning. Without your usual nightly routine, deep sleep was all but impossible. Therefore, it was easy enough for you to jolt awake when welcome came noises from your neighbor’s cabin. Without another thought, you jumped out of bed and excitedly grabbed the itty-bitty box. 

This time, the arrow came unbidden by your usual knocks.

** _Got your books. I’ll put them through the vent for you in a second._ **

With a shuffle and a thud, books came flying across the floor. The bibliophilic blizzard continued on and on, until you’d counted seventeen. The pile was amazing; this would last you for a couple of weeks!

** _I know, I know, but there was a sale. Library was closing or something. Too good a deal to pass up._ **

** _You did what? Why? I don’t need nothing. Guess I’ll have to thank Kraglin for picking it up for you. Send it on through and I’ll tell you what I think._ **

Smiling from ear to ear, you sent the box through the vent with a gentle push. Tissue paper crinkled, but other than that there was radio silence from his end. Your enthusiasm melted as it wore on and nearly fifteen minutes had gone by without an answer. Finally, _ finally _, Mary’s arrow returned and you held your breath.

** _Dunno what to say. Don’t think anyone’s given me something like this before, but it’s gonna have a special place to stay. Thanks, sweetheart. _ **

** _Now, do me a favor. Sit still and close your eyes. Knock on the vent when you’re ready, I got a surprise of my own for you._ **

What did he want you to close your eyes for? Anticipation rose like the tide in your chest as you stared at the vent. Though you debated keeping your eyes open, you ultimately decided to do as he asked.

You blindly reached toward the vent to tap it lightly with your fingernail. It was a herculean effort to ignore your own inquisitive nature in order to keep your eyes squeezed shut. Your curiosity only grew when you heard the soft hum of his arrow as it drew nearer. The sole other sound to be heard was the shifting of the ship and her pipes.

Metal pressed itself against your lips, the chill of it more than enough to shock you into opening your eyes. The arrow, driven by a nearly inaudible whistle, drew back to lightly trace the curve of your bottom lip. It flicked gracefully against the corner of your mouth before moving up to tickle each of your cheeks with the illuminated flight flanges. 

Breathless and blushing bright cyan, you did your best to formulate a reply.

** _Fuck yeah, I do. You got a gorgeous pair of lips, woman. Could drive a man crazy. _ **

His mischievous arrow drew its point down the skin of your neck and along the line of your jaw. It teased your earlobe before zipping down the front of your nightdress. With surprising accuracy for someone who couldn’t see any of what they were doing, Mary coaxed the arrow to slither down your body and do small figure eights around your legs.

You enjoyed the attention, but hoped it would stay still long enough for you to give Mary your next note. Fortunately, he flew it back up to chest-level before long, and you were able to roll the scrap of paper around the shaft before he recalled it.

** _Someday soon, promise. Now ain’t a great time for it, but we’ll see each other eventually. Give it a bit. We’ll go on a few jobs, build up some credits first, drop off the dickheads… but it’ll happen._ **

He was right. It didn’t ease your impatience, but he was correct in his handling of the situation. Where did a pirate even go to find jobs, anyway? Did they just… constantly loot other ships? How would they find the ships? 

** _We have an intel guy; a dispatcher. He connects the Captains with the crews who are free, best equipped, and well-experienced for each job. We’ve got another job set up as soon as we leave Contraxia. He promised it’ll be a good one, and he’s giving it to us because, even if this ship is a piece of floating shit, it’s the best turd for the job._ **

** _Now, gimme your hand, sugar. Wouldn’t want you getting sick._ **

Terran music and hand-holding, those were things you’d developed a new appreciation for. The notes drifting into your head made you smile and sigh, and the arrow was now soaring between you both so often that the hazy, illuminated trail it left behind didn’t have time to fade. Every now and again, it would come up to lightly kiss you again before taking your words straight to its master.

** _I’d touch you wherever you wanted, beautiful. Could spend hours making up for all this waiting we’ll be doing. Gotta make sure to get you all warmed up for once, since your hands are still fucking freezing._ **

** _Don’t even think of working tomorrow, heard you cut up your other hand pretty good today. I bought you enough books, so you let it heal or so help me, I’ll make sure Kraglin will lock you in your godsdamned bunk._ **

** _I’m fucking tired as shit, the booze must be getting to me. I’m gonna hit the hay. Goodnight, sweetheart, talk to you tomorrow._ **

He’d cut things short tonight, but that was fine. It’d be good to have time to process this sudden leap in the tone of your friendship. You relaxed your grip, intending to pull away, when you were suddenly yanked flush to the vent. “Mary!” What was he playing at? 

It wasn’t a long duct, only about a quarter the length of your arm, and this sharp yoink meant your hand now rested on his side of the wall. You laid there, utterly bamboozled as to what was going on, until you felt a pair of thin lips moving against your palm. Warm breath blew across the delicate skin of your wrist as you felt, rather than heard, him laughing. It sent a buzz of electricity jolting through your body until the very finest of hairs stood on end.

And then he released you. It was finished as nearly as soon as it had started, almost as if it hadn’t happened at all. You rolled away from the vent and dragged yourself into your bed, where you laid in a daze. With a heart that was going a mile a minute and skin that was still tingling, it didn’t take a genius to figure out where this was headed.

This direction wasn’t something you’d expected or set out for. If you were honest, you’d once figured you’d spend your life alone, but didn’t everyone think that at some point? If anything, you’d have presumed you would meet someone special on your own planet and settled down for a peaceful life, but then again… space pirates weren’t unknown for throwing a wrench into people’s plans and expectations. Quite the opposite, really.

You were left thus to fall asleep to thoughts of heart-thieving buccaneers. You dreamed of speeding arrows, rusty ships, and the possibility of something more to come. And as small as your bed was, it still felt remarkably empty when you woke up the next morning to the sound of Mary’s departure. You laid there listening to the shuffling of cloth, clack of buckles, and then finally… the _ swip-swap _ of his door closing.

Kraglin came for you a lot later than he had yesterday. He wasn’t bearing your breakfast tray, either, but he did sport a tentative smile on his bruised and swollen face. “Are you sure you’re alright to be out of bed? You were acting like you had a concussion yesterday.”

He looked confused. “Why, did I say somethin’ weird?”

“Uh… yeah, a little.” 

He shook it off with a shrug and motioned for you to follow him. “I’s gonna take ya out for a bite. There’s some good places here. Sorry we didn’t get much time yesterday, but I figured tha’ asshole would make some trouble. Didn’t wanna put ya in danger.”

“And you were right.” Thoughts of Lurk had you reconsidering a second outing. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. What if he shows up again?”

“Don’t think tha’s likely.” He chuckled nervously. “He’s… uh… well, he an’ a few’a his pals broke the code. Ravagers fight sometimes, but it’s always fair; one on one an’ in private wit’ a Cap’n nearby tah make sure things don’t get too outta hand. Gotta look united, ya know?”

“Are you saying he surprised you or something?” Your voice might’ve squeaked a little. Kraglin was one of the sweetest people you’d met. There were few things rarer in the galaxy than a good person, and he was precisely that. 

“Hid in an alley an’ plucked me right off the street when I was comin’ back from the ship.” He sheepishly confirmed. “Didn’t really get a chance tah fight back, but lucky for me one’a the crew saw. He went an’ got th’ Cap’n, an’ they pulled ‘em off’a me.”

“I don’t understand, I can’t see how someone could get so angry over such a little thing. I mean, I _ do _ understand, but it’s just… mind-mindbogglingly stupid.” Was the smallest refusal always considered a slight? It made no sense, but there was nothing logical about pride. “I’m sorry you were hurt. What happened to them?” 

“Breakin’ the code, dependin’ on the offense, is usually a death or exile kinda deal, but there’s exceptions sometimes.” He pushed a few of the heavier boxes in the loading bay out of your way and clicked a button on his remote to open it up. His voice could barely be heard over the squeal of the ramp unfolding. “We started bustin’ chops, one thin’ led tah ‘nother, an’ ‘fore ya knew it, we had half the drunks from three damn bars in a big pile wit’ fists an’ furniture flyin’.’Ventually, e’reythin’ calmed down, an’ Cap’n tracked down their First Mate. Dunno wha’s gonna happen to ‘em, but Cap’n said he’s havin’ a meetin’ ‘bout it today.”

“That seems much more organized than I’d expected, considering the circumstances.” The crunch of freshly fallen snow and bite of chill to the air made you smile. Contraxia may be entirely different from Icyclia, but its weather was lovely. If you closed your eyes, you might have been able to pretend it was home. “But I’m glad it’s more or less sorted.”

“Yep.” He replied, distracted by the line of street food vendors who were currently setting up. None of them looked anything close to ready for orders, but he did spy a tiny diner-type restaurant after a while of searching. “Been tah tha’ place o’er there a few times. They’s clean an’ got a good variety.”

It was still quite early in the morning, but there were several people inside already. The air was warm, and it carried the yeasty scent of baking bread. The virtual orchestra of savory and sweet smells hit a crescendo nearest to the counter, where a very curvy, tentacled lady was ringing up orders. Behind her, several people bustled around in the kitchen. “Hi, sweetie! Nice to see you ‘round here again.”

“Oh..h-hi, Myra.” Kraglin smiled shyly back. “Give us a sec, please.”

“No problem, honeypie.” She winked at him flirtatiously.

“This here’s the menu.” He pointed to a thin touch-screen device. He tapped it several times, with each ‘page’ flipping to show a different item. “They’s even got some Terran stuff, I think. Peter used tah love comin’ ‘ere; he’d always order a strawberry chocolate milkshake whenever I lost a bet tah ‘im.”

“Peter?”

“Oh… He’s Cap’n’s boy. Adopted him after a stop on Terra. He ain’t so much a kid no more, but he still comes ‘round now an’ again. You stick wit’ us long ‘nuff an’ yeh’ll meet ‘im… him an’ his wacky friends.” He picked himself out a meal while you watched, and then stepped back so you could put in whatever you wanted.

He was right about the wide variety of food they served, but it didn’t surprise you. This being a pleasure-planet, it was bound to cater to a wide variety of people. Sadly, you didn’t see any Icyklian dishes, but did find a sandwich with chips that looked appetizing. Unable to fend off your sweet tooth, you picked out a Terran pastry called a ‘donut’. Kraglin had to explain that it didn’t necessarily contain nuts of any kind, strangely enough, but, aside from the odd name, it looked delicious.  
  
“Captain Yondu has a son?” You sat down together in a booth after Kraglin graciously insisted on paying most of the bill. He’d wanted to simply take care of the whole thing, but you’d talked him into letting you pitch in, too. “I wouldn’t have considered him the fatherly type.”

“I dunno.” He grinned. “He’s told me hundreds’a times tha’ bein’ Cap’n’s like bein’ a single daddy tryna wrangle fifty or so kids -usually right after one’a th’ crew’s done pissed him off.”

“You know…” You glanced through the window at the sound of shattering glass that had come from a bar across the street. Several Ravagers had fallen through a glass door and landed in the snow, not brawling for once, but simply because they were already too drunk to handle themselves. “...I’m sure that’s a brutally accurate description.”

He followed your line of sight and laughed quietly. “Tha’s some’a Cap’n Aleta’s bunch.” He said, his tone fond. “Most’a them’s real full’a bluster, butchya bettah believe they’s decent people at the heart. Cap’n Aleta don’t suffer no fools.”

“Speaking of Ravagers,” You leaned back in your seat as Myra came around bearing your two heavily laden plates and drinks on a tray. “My friend told me our dispatcher has a job lined up for us as soon as we leave Contraxia. Do you know anything about that?”

Kraglin, who’d been sipping his drink, choked and spluttered. “Wha’?! Ya mean Cap’n’s actually goin’ through wit-” He stopped himself. “I tried tah talk ‘im outta tha’un, but he must figure it’s worth it. Damnit… gah…” He put his head in his hands for a moment. “Dunno wha’ he’s thinkin’... we’s prolly gonna lose people… no one in their right mind would… _f__uck _…”

You took a bite of your sandwich as he worked through his mini-rant. The sandwich meat was oddly gritty, but not too bad. In fact, you’d say it was refreshing to finally have food that hadn’t been pre-made and reheated for once. You took a sip of tea to wash it down. “What’s so bad about the job?”

The First Mate had gone pale. “Dispatcher Yog offered Cap’n a job issued by a Yautja clan to move a Xenomorph queen to an uninhabited moon orbiting one of the planets of the Keplar-16b system for a blooding ritual.”

Xenomorphs...your blood ran cold at the thought of those mindless creatures. As their hunting was a vital tradition to one of the most ancient races of the universe, their trade remained legal. No one was willing to argue with a Yautja over safety procedures, and definitely would not attempt to hold them back from a practice that was near to the core of who they were as a race. “That’s… not wise.”

“The clan is offering us two million credits for the job.” Kraglin murmured back. “I knew when I saw Cap’n’s face tha’ he wanted tah take it, but thought I could talk a li’l sense into ‘im… guess not.”

You pondered the implications of that while you ate. Were they truly so desperate? Most would say that a billion credits wouldn’t be worth taking on such perilous cargo. “Would that help us out of our current situation?”

“More than.” He admitted, but he wasn’t happy about that. “We’d be set for a good while. E’eryone could take home a small fortune in credits.”

“Well, what’s life without a little adventure?” You took another sip of your tea… for some reason, your mouth felt strange, but you chalked it up to having accidentally burned yourself on the hot food. “If he’s determined to do it, we’ll simply have to make the best of it.” 

“Guess tha’s true…” He peered closely at you. “‘Ey, you okay? Made a weird face there fer a sec.”

You cleared your throat and took a drink. “Yeah, I’m… _ hmhm _ … fine.” You licked the inside of your mouth, which had started to tingle. “I might’ve burned my mouth on the sandwich.” You swallowed and tried to ignore the slight irritation. “Do you think… _ hm _ ** _hm_ **… the Captain will let go of the men he doesn’t like?”

“Yeah, he’d likely take care’a tha’.” He pushed his milkshake toward you, concern in his eyes. “‘Ere, maybe this’ll help.”

“Thanks.” It felt as if the flesh of your tongue had been touched to a hot iron, and talking was getting difficult. Darn, you probably should’ve been more patient in eating and let it cool. Now you were going to probably spend a day or two with a sore mouth. Sipping the milkshake helped a little, but not much. It was only a temporary fix. “I shimply puth a lithle mumbingk adenth on ith..._ hmhm… _” You coughed a little harder into your hand. The burning had reached your throat, and it was making it rough to swallow.

Kraglin was frowning worriedly. “Lemme see yer neck, snowflake.” He reached over to gently tug at your scarf and his eyes went wide. Immediately, he jumped out of his seat and started pulling you toward the exit. “We gotta gitchya tah the ship. C’mon, darlin’.” 

The tissue of your esophagus felt scratched away by every breath you took, and it was then that you realized what the issue truly was. Panic seized you as you touched the exposed skin of your neck to find several raised hives. “Blatherfiss…” 

“Contraxia’s kinda a bad luck charm fer ya, ain’t it?” He grabbed you up. “Hold on, darlin’.”

“Thangk… ouo.” You wheezed as your throat involuntarily contracted from the searing pain and sent you into a fit of hacking.

He sprinted as fast as he was able to the ship. He took enormous, long-legged strides that powered him straight inside and down the ridiculous maze of hallways. He was panting and winded long before he got you to the Med Bay, but admirably powered through it. He tore the place apart searching for a vial of histi-block, and his hands were shaking as he prepared the needle. He jabbed it into your thigh, pushed down the plunger, and then carefully removed it.

Your neck was so swollen and covered in blue hives that you could barely turn your head. Your mouth was wet from the saliva that had dripped from the corners, and every bit of the rest of your body was overheated, achy, and blotchy. Honestly, it felt as if you’d rolled around on hot coals, and followed that up by chugging a gallon of water laced with pure capsaicin. 

It took several agonizing minutes for the horrible choking sensation to ease into a minor cough. Your tongue no longer seemed to be fighting to escape your mouth -a huge plus. To make sure you were okay, Kraglin gave you another, smaller dose of the silvery medication, but you remained horribly uncomfortable for a little over an hour. The hives persisted, and were tortuously itchy to the point that he was forced to hold your hands down to stop you from scratching.

“Yeh’ll scar up somethin’ awful.” He cautioned. 

You moaned miserably and hung your head as you squirmed. “_ Kraglin... _” You croaked in a voice that sounded as if you’d smoked three packs a day for a straight century.

“I know, I know, sweetheart.” He let go of your hands to grab a small, rigid packet and snapped it in half. “Tell me where ya need it, sugar-”

“WHAT IN SAM’S HELL ARE YOU TWO... put what where?! Tha’ better not be wha’ it fuckin’ sounds like or I’ma snap yer cock like a twig.” You both snapped your heads in the direction of the doorway, where the Captain now stood. He looked both furious and gobsmacked at the scene in front of him. “The _ hell’re _ you two doin’? All I heard down th’ fuckin’ hall was somebody moanin’ an’ then ya… ya go an’ say shit like tha’… I fuckin’ thought…” He scratched his head and turned away.

You wanted to die right then and there; not only did you nearly asphyxiate and drool all over one of the few friends you had on the ship, but now your _ Captain _ thought you’d been having sex in the Med Bay. You should’ve stayed in bed and pretended the universe didn’t exist outside your covers. “Gods, no!”

“She got ahold’a some mixed-meat patty tha’ had bladderfish in it.” Kraglin’s face was blood red, his expression caught somewhere between embarrassment and horror, as he stammered out his explanation. “Coulda died if I hadn’t come back tah the ship tah take a leak.”

“Why are _ you _ here?” You asked.

“This here’s my ship.” He huffed back, before bending over and reaching into the cabinet to grab something. “I’s gonna do what I want, an’ be where I wants tah be.” He smoothly snuck whatever it was into a pocket of his duster.

Kraglin’s relief was evident, as he immediately chuckled. “Gave yerself heartburn again from all th’ drinkin’, didn’t ya?”

Yondu ignored the question, and instead strode to your cot, took your chin between his thumb and forefinger, and pushed down the collar of your shirt. His knuckle brushed the length of your throat, but he was careful to avoid the minefield of angry, cyan spots.

“Ca-Cap’n?” 

He let go, only to grab his First Mate’s shoulder. “Good job. Now git yer ass out, I got this covered.” 

“Are ya s-”

“Yep.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Git.” 

Kraglin left, but not without a small wave to you. The Captain watched him like a hawk until he was completely out of sight, and then lifted you right up off the cot. “How the fuck’re ya able tah get in so much fuckin’ trouble soon as I leave fer a few hours?” He stormed down the hall. “Can’t e’en get a damn drink withoutchya hurtin’ yerself, can I? Do I hafta sit outside yer fuckin’ door or somethin’?!” He got louder as he neared your room. “Well, ya know what? I’m gonna fuckin’ do ya one better.”

Having no other choice, you clung to him, despite how badly his shouting made your ears ring. You were unceremoniously, but not exactly roughly, dropped on your bed. With his arms now free, he snatched your chair and twirled it around so that he was straddling it. And there he sat, his fiery gaze melting you into your mattress. “I’ma fuckin’ sit ‘ere ‘til I know I didn’t waste mah credits on an investment out tah test natural selection!”

You blinked and sat up. “I thought I was your friend?” Your chest hurt, and you couldn’t tell if it was some remnant of the reaction or if it was because the man who’d helped you save your family from starving was speaking to you so… objectively. “Or am I really just an ‘investment’?”

He sneered. “Don’t go actin’ like tha’ an’ turnin’ mah words on me. How’s I s’posed tah deal wit’ all this mess, huh? Seems like since we docked, you been gettin’ hurt left an’ right. I got other shit tah worry ‘bout. Don’t need the hassle.”

“Well then, why don’t you just drop me back off on Icyclia, if I’m such an annoyance?” You shot back. “No, wait, I can just…” You moved off the bed and started gathering your few belongings together. “I have enough credits. I can take the next starhopper home-” You yanked open the top drawer of your dresser and made a move to sweep all of it into the leather pack, when he intercepted your hand. His fingers curled tightly around your palm in a firm grip. 

His hand was callused, rough from labor, and heavily marred by thick scarring. Tiny nicks, raised keloids, and imperfections knotted the skin, but that was not what shocked you out of your moment of hurt and anger. No, it was the fact you _ knew _ this hand. 

“It was… it was _ you? _”


	5. The Hand That Hurts

His eyes bored into your soul, but he remained silent. Every ounce of anger was sapped out, leaving you drained and weary. How was one supposed to react when they find out these things? Should you ask him why he’d lied to pass himself off as someone else? Was it okay to be happy in a way that you now knew who’d been on the other side of the wall? “You sound much more sophisticated on paper.”

That seemed to break the spell of silence. “Cap’n Stakar taught me tah write. Said no one ever writes how they talk.”

“He’s not wrong.” You smiled wanly up at him, and then looked at the drawer before bumping it closed with your hip.

“This mean ya ain’t leavin’?” It was comical how he edged around to be between you and the door, yet the expression on his face let you know he’d allow you to leave if you _ truly _wished to go. He looked so conflicted and worried, it tore at your heartstrings to see him so twisted up.

“I won’t leave.” You rubbed the back of his hand with your thumb. “But I want to know why you lied. You could’ve told me who you were, I can keep a secret.” Taking a chance, you stepped closer. “I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize our friendship.”

“I was gonna tell ya.” He claimed. “Jus’ didn’t think it was a good idea tah say somethin’ right now.”

You grabbed his other hand and held both in a tight grip. “Nothing has to change because no one knows.” A thought then intruded upon you and you smiled. “Well, actually, Kraglin does, which reminds me… since we’re being honest…” You felt a little guilt begin to gnaw at your gut. “I’ve been sneaking off-ship with him. I’m kinda the reason he was beaten up the other day. We sneaked out today to get a bit of breakfast and that’s how I managed to unknowingly eat bladderfish. It’s my own fault, I should’ve asked for allergen-free food.”

His expression hardened until you were convinced his scowl could’ve scratched a diamond. “So I got two reasons tah want that ass Lurk dead… good tah know. I was gonna vote tah kill ‘im anyway, but now I’ma take care’a it personally.” He stomped out the door, inadvertently dragging you along, and muttering as he went. “Gotta hand it tah Kraglin; boy’s gettin’ better at lyin’ tah me. I asked fer the lady in question as a witness, an’ he said he escorted ‘er tah the first starhopper’a the day.”

“Wh-where are we going?”

“Tah see th’ other Cap’ns. Meetin’s fer this stuff is always three; the two on either side, an’ one tah for objective decisions.” He led you directly out of the ship and into the dirty, muddy slush that the street had now become. Hundreds of people, both Ravager and civilian, were going about their business now. The knotted throng of passersby paid neither of you any heed, aside from pointedly avoiding accidentally touching or bumping your Captain. 

He pulled you into a hole-in-the-wall type of bar called the _ Admiral Benbow _. The outside was weathered, stained brick, and the sign hung at a tilt that didn’t appear to be for aesthetic reasons. Inside, however, the floors were made of some type of wood that ran so deeply blue that it nearly appeared black in the warm, orange glow of the bar lights. The walls were hung with gorgeous holomotion pictures in full color -an expensive decoration. The fixtures, too, looked clean, though a bit worn, and the air was filled by the rumble of low conversation.

A few eyes, all of them seated directly at the bar, turned their sights on Yondu, and then briefly to you. One of them was a woman with piercing, dark eyes, who promptly got to her feet. “Yondu.”

“Aleta.” He gave her a snaggletoothed grin. “Sorry fer steppin’ out. Stomach was givin’ me troubles ‘gain.”

“Uh-huh.” She moved her head like a squirrel, sharp, restless, and quick, but with more energy. “And this is… who?” She wasn’t asking him, however. She was clearly addressing you.

“I’m-”

“There! He’s back! Now we’s can settle this good an’ fair.” The other who’d been watching, a burly Ravager with radiation-green eyes, rose and approached. “Leave th’ woman outch’ere. You’s can collect ‘er later.”

“She’s comin’ with, Surge. This li’l lady’s th’ whole reason we’s here.” He pulled you in front of him. “Now we got ourselves a witness.”

“Ain’t that lucky?” Surge’s iridescent violet skin cast a rainbow of light across the armor he wore over his Ravager apparel. “Welp, all’a ya’ll come on back then. Lurk, Torok, and Gahoth are waitin’.”

Aleta wasted no time at all in crossing the bar with elegant, yet scurrying steps, and followed Surge into a dark hallway partitioned-off by a beaded curtain. Once both of you were through, the swinging strands began to buzz until it reached a pitch at which the sounds from front-of-house were drowned out. Abruptly, the buzzing ended and silence prevailed apart from the footsteps of you and your companions.

Several doors lined the hallway, but Surge chose the third one to the left and opened it wide for the rest of you to file inside. After a momentary peek down both sides of the hallway, he shut the door and slid the deadbolt into place. Aleta, who you could only assume was _ the _Captain Aleta Kraglin had mentioned, took point in front of the door with her arms crossed.

The room was large, but empty aside from a handful of metal chairs and a few dusty kegs and broken bar items… and three figures chained together by a line of lasercuffs. They sat kneeling, bound and gagged, and looking rather worse for the wear. Lurk knelt in between his two comrades and was glaring at the floor with only one eye -the other was so bruised, he appeared incapable of even opening it. 

“So, girl, we’ve already heard e’eryone else’s side’a the story. Tell us your version.” Captain Surge raised a magenta brow at you when it took you several seconds to muster the ability to speak. “Kangalor got yer tongue, lady?”

“Uhhm...n-no.” You nibbled at your lip. “I was with Kraglin coming back from the market when Mr. Lurk stepped between us.” You recounted the rather short story in full, and answered any questions they had until everyone in the room was satisfied.

Captain Aleta relieved you of your fears when she bobbed her head at Surge. “That lines up good ‘nuff fer me, an’ I done made mah initial decision. Yer crewman’s guilty’a betraying the code, but I’ll reserve mah ideas on punishment ‘till I hear both’a you two out.”

“Tah his credit, Lurk told th’ truth.” Surge offered. “Said he started it, an’ tha’ he waited fer Cap’n Yondu’s First Mate tah come along by ‘is lonesome. An’ he _ was _drunk.”

“Yeah, we all gets drunk from time tah time, but ain’t none’a us so drunk we try tah beat a rankin’ Ravager half tah death!” Yondu’s lips peeled back from his capped, ragged teeth into a merciless snarl. “‘Tweren’t jus’ any Ravager he chose. Ya’ll know I ain’t had time tah find me a Quartermaster. What if I’s gotten laid up? Then, mah second-in-command an’ I’s _ both _ outta commission an’ the whole crew’s at risk. Tha’s a total’a _ fifty-six an’ a half _Ravagers he coulda cost the Clan Collective.”

“Fifty-six an’ a half? How do ya have fifty-six an’ a _ half _?” Surge looked at Yondul like he’d grown a second head.

“Ah, yeah, that’d be Relian. Poor fucker’s too damn stupid tah count as more’n half.” Yondu sniffed and scratched his nose with a smirk as the other two chuckled.

“Ya make a fair point, Yondu.” Aleta conceded.

“‘Bout Relian bein’ dumber than a box’a rocks or ‘bout th’ potential losses?”

She grinned at him, snickering. “Both.” 

“If ya ain’t found a Quatermaster yet, tha’s yer own fault.” Surge countered. “Lurk’s mah Navigator. If ya do ‘way wit’ ‘im, I’ma hafta find me a new’un.”

“Navigators’re only needed if ya ain’t got the credits tah buy yerself a damn autopilot wit’ a self-editin’ A.I. update fer yer holomap. An’ if ya can’t afford tha’… well, that’s _ yer _ fault, Surge.” Aleta inserted herself between the two men. 

“Lurk’s on-rank wit’ Kraglin an’ from an outside clan. He mighta gone ‘bout it bad, but he had e’ery right tah challenge ‘im.” Surge glared heatedly down at her as he spoke.

“An’ a Navigator don’t hold anythin’ ‘cept a title no more. They ain’t been a rank fer fifty universal cycles.” She kept her own tone level, but there was a wave of palpable tension rolling off of her that put you on edge. “Further mo’, he didn’t jus’ ‘go ‘bout it bad’, he disrespected e’ery damn rule on Ravager combat. He risked the Ravager reputation-”

“Oh, tha’s rich, when Yondu here broke-” He was cut off by Aleta forcing a laser handcannon into his mouth.

“An’ _ you _ jus’ almost disobeyed a declaration set by th’ Clan Collective.” She hissed, and then jerked the barrel from between his lips. “Good thing I saved ya from doin’ tha’, huh? Punishment fer tha’ is execution, ifin’ ya forgot.”

“I’s had ‘bout ‘nuff’a this yammerin’!” Yondu bellowed. “Mah vote’s tah lemme play a few rounds’a Pin th’ Tail on th’ Shithead wit’ ‘im an’ ‘is pals.” His prosthetic tahlei glimmered, and at his side, where his arrow was sheathed, a dusky sunset glow illuminated his coat from within.

“Welp, we know Yondu’s ‘pinion.” Aleta didn’t sound at all surprised and took his outburst in stride. “Wha’s yers, Surge?”

The Priaquaterran’s gills flared furiously within their translucent aquatic-rebreather sacks as he fought to control himself. “I vote we give ‘im a couple licks’a the nine-tails, ban ‘im from defectin’ tah ‘nother clan fer twenty universal cycles, an’ reclaim th’ right tah ‘is rags fer six months outta the universal calendar.”

“Tha’s it?!” Yondu was practically foaming at the mouth. “Yeh wanna spank ‘im, ground ‘im, an’ take ‘way ‘is nice Ravager clothes, an’ _ tha’s it?! _” 

“Shut yer cake hole, Yondu.” Aleta snapped back before approaching you. “Wha’ do you think, li’l miss?”

“M-me?” You stuttered. Having said your piece, you were taken aback at being asked. You thought your part was done!

“You was there, wasn’tchya?” She smirked at you. “You think he deserves tah try ‘is hand at fightin’ Yondu or should he face th’ tails?”

“I don’t think I have the proper grasp on what those punishments would mean. I’m not a real Ravager yet, I’m just a mechanic waiting on her rags, ma’am.” You fidgeted under her gaze. This woman, with her wild eyes and half-dreaded hair, could have made anyone quiver. “But he did have the thought not to make a scene when it happened. He definitely wasn’t happy I told him no, or that Kraglin was there, but he let it go. He probably had a few hours-worth of alcohol and a sore ego to nurse. I despise what he did to my friend, but I don’t think he needs to die for it.”

She holstered her laser handcannon and winked. “A’ight, girlie-girl. Tha’s all I’ll be needin’.” She turned her back on them all for a moment as she thought it all over. She combed her fingers through her feral hair, paced the length of the room, and mumbled to herself too quietly for anyone to hear before looking up and nodding. “I’ve come tah a decision.”

“Let’s fuckin’ hear it then!” Yondu demanded.

“I’ma call this’un a compromise.” She ignored the insulted roaring from both men. “SHUDDAP! This’s mah call. Yondu, yer ‘llowed a death-fight wit’ Lurk, but ya ain’t gonna go killin’ the other two. Those’re gonna be subject tah Surge’s suggested punishment.”

Yondu ground his teeth so hard, you could hear the scratch of metal on enamel across the room. “_ Fine. _”

Aleta knelt down to the Xandarian to Lurk’s left and pressed the pad of her thumb to the scanner on the lasercuffs. “Git up!” She barked at him, which had him scrambling to obey. “Yondu, take ‘is rags an’ cut ‘is shirt open at the back.”

He stripped the offender of his Ravager coat and tossed it to Aleta, and then pulled a knife from his boot. It might’ve been a trick of your eyes in the dark room, but you thought that you saw a brief flash of something akin to reluctance in his eyes before he slit the rough cloth in two.

Aleta, in the meantime, was reaching into a massive, empty barrel keg. She nearly disappeared into it up to the waist before she pushed herself out and came back with a braided whip. It was long, thick at the handle and held stiff with lacquer around a wooden core, and you saw as she passed you that the Ravager sigil was burned into its wooden pommel. Without a word, she handed it to Yondu.

In spite of how fiercely mad he’d been only minutes ago, his expression had gone blank the moment she placed the whip into his open hand. He stared at it, while Aleta forced the Ravager to his knees, and there again he hesitated. He flexed his fingers around it, rubbed the ruthlessly rough cord with his thumb, and audibly swallowed.

Aleta looked up and her expression softened. “If ya need me tah-” 

The whip flew across the room and hit the wall so hard that the pommel splintered. She let out a small sigh. “‘Kay, tha’ went ‘bout as well as I expected. Yondu, go ‘head an’ git. Ain’t nuthin’ in the rules tha’ says all’a us gotta stay fer the punishment. Don’t say who’s s’posed tah administer it, either, so… go on. Move it.”

“He’ th’ offended party! He oughta be th’ one-” Surge began, but was cut off by a growl from Aleta.

“Fuck off. I know th’ damn code better’n e’eryone in this room. If I says he can go, he can go.” She yanked the door open and shoved both of you back into the hall, and slammed it shut afterward.

Yondu’s scarlet eyes were unfocused, but vaguely angry and he flinched when you touched his arm. “We should leave.” But he didn’t move until you tugged lightly on his cuff.

His gait was stiff, and he seemed to tuck himself over as he walked. Every few seconds, he’d reach up to rub at his prosthetic. He smoothed his fingers over the curve of it, scratching at the scar tissue that lined it as if he needed to remind himself it was there. He didn’t even speak until he was standing directly in front of his door. “I’da rather killt ‘im.” He muttered.

“You… what?”

He slammed his datacard against the scanner lock, and didn’t seem to notice you’d spoken. “I’da rather killt ‘im than whipped ‘im.” His voice was hoarse, rougher than his usual rasp. He made a beeline for his open bathroom door and gripped the sink as he frantically splashed water across his face.

“Yondu?” You followed him in against your better judgement. “Are you going to be alright?”

His wet fingers were fumbling with the buttons, clasps, and buckles of the harnesses that crossed his torso. He groaned in frustration, trying to simply tear the fabric off, but you’d finally had enough. “Hold still, I’ve got it.” You batted away his hands, pulled the loops of leather through, and pushed at the clasps. When all was done, you had what felt like ten pounds of leather and cloth armor in your arms. Unsure where he might want it, you left to deposit it on his bed.

In the few moments you were busy with that, you heard him babbling nonsense under his breath. You rushed to help him, but had no idea what to do. He was simply standing there, muttering at his reflection and digging his fingers into the lip of the sink hard enough to bend the edges of his ragged fingernails up. “You’re going to hurt yourself!” You reached out to try to pry his grip off of the sink, but the moment your hand touched his, he sucked in a harsh breath through his teeth.

“DAMNIT, YER HANDS IS LIKE FUCKIN’ ICE!” He shoved you away before blinking several times and shaking his head. He stared around him at his bathroom. “How th’ hell’d I end up ‘ere?” 

“You… you walked.” You backed up, growing increasingly concerned with each passing second. “Don’t you remember at all?”

“I… I remember Aleta puttin’...” A shudder went down his back as the cloudiness cleared from his eyes. “...th’ whip… ah, fuck… _ goddamnit… _ ” He rushed toward the door, but then made a face as he looked down and realized he was bare from the stomach up. “WHAT THE HELL?! WHERE’S MAH DAMN COAT? NAH, NAH, THAT AIN’T THE REAL QUESTION HERE… WHERE’S MAH **FUCKIN’ SHIRT?!**” He whirled around to face you. “WHY CAN I SEE MAH FUCKIN’ NIPPLES?”

“Because you’re bare-chested? As for your clothes…” You pointed to the bed behind you. “They’re right there. You wanted them off, so I helped.”

“I…wanted ‘em off…” He rubbed his whiskered jaw, and then he dropped his focus to a tattoo that covered his left pectoral muscle. His jaw muscles went tight as he touched it and his eyes flicked to the mirror in the bathroom. From this angle, his reflection was still visible, and his gaze locked onto the tattoo like a lifeline. He seemed to relax a little, and so you figured it was a good time to explain.

“Aleta said we could leave. She’s going to take care of Lurk’s execution and the punishment of the other two.” You worked up the courage to approach him again and got close enough to see why he’d been rubbing his chest.  
  
The tattoo covered a scar… no, not one, but a series of scars. They were a collection of tiny dots and dashes that looked too neat to be earned as part of a fight or anything else. They looked… purposeful. A horrific realization dawned on you as soon as he slapped his hand flat over the tattoo to try to hide it. 

You knew of the Kree. One had to live under a literal rock not to know of them, especially after the public announcement of the peace treaty that stopped the war. You were more than aware of what many of them were guilty of and the trade that had kept their world rich in credits for many hundreds of cycles. “I know those marks. You don’t need to hide them from me.” 

“Gimme mah shirt.” He snapped back, his hand still held against his marred chest. “_ Gimme. Mah. Shirt. _”

“I’m sorry.” You passed him the garment. Gods, what he must have gone through… It made so much sense why handling that whip would set him off. “You shouldn’t have had to-”

“Had tah be a fuckin’ slave?” He yanked it on so fast you heard a seam rip. “Tha’s jus’ the way’a th’ world fer some’a us, snowflake. Don’t fuckin’ matter now. I’s done wit’ that life an’ I’d rather die than go back tah it.” He spat vehemently 

“_An’ I ain’t_ _never_ _gonna be th’ one holdin’ th’ whip, neither_.”


	6. The Hand That Heals

That brought the tears that had been waiting at the edge of your vision to light. They dripped down the edges of your cheeks to stain the old blue dress you wore. You’d seen pictures, anti-Kree war holoposters, hung on the walls of buildings in your village. While you’d never known slavery, you knew the face a person made when they’d been worked to the edge of death, but still feared the whip that came singing through the air. 

“Ah, shit, don’t fuckin’ do that.” He groaned and dug his fingernails into the weathered, scar-patterned skin of his forehead. “Don’t… don’t _ cry _, damnit.”

Your stomach muscles tensed as your fists clenched, but there was no use in fighting this battle. If anything, his pleas for you to stop made you sob harder for him. Somehow, it felt as if you were shedding tears he no longer had the will to. It was all sniffles, breathless hiccups, and the struggle to get enough breath for the next quiet, body-wracking wave of pain.

“C’mon, stop. It was years ago.” He tried to growl, but it seemed to get caught in his throat on the way out and transform into a heavy sigh. He knocked his clothes, armor, and gear to the floor, and perched at the edge of the bed. 

You were frozen to the spot, attempting desperately to wipe away tears that simply kept coming. It was impossible to talk through around the ball of emotion that clogged the back of your throat; you couldn’t even make a noise when he pulled you off your feet into his lap. “Yer gonna make yerself sick. I’s yer Captain, an’ ‘m orderin’ ya tah stop the fuckin’ blubberin’ or I’ll make ya wash th’ skid marks out’a Relian’s drawers.”

You choked on tears, but also on a snort that left you nearly on the floor. In a weird limbo between sobs and cackles, you were caught. Seeing Yondu’s face as you coughed and spluttered only made it worse, and so you closed your puffy eyes. You hugged him tightly and buried your wet face into his shirt. 

“Wha’ th’ hell, woman, tha’ ain’t no damn tissue! Fuck, ya know wha’?” He shifted to get to his shirt buttons and yanked it off again. He shoved the whole thing at you with a wrinkled nose. “Take it, wipe that mess up, lay down, an’ we’ll have a fuckin’ nap. Peter’d always fuckin’ cry when he was tired, guess yer th’ same damn way.”

You scrubbed your face as best you could, although your nose was still terribly stuffy, and threw the soiled shirt over the edge of the bed. Yondu let himself collapse roughly on his back, subsequently taking you down with him. Your breathing was still irregular, and your eyes burned like nothing else, but at least you were calmer. Most of all, though, there remained a soul-deep ache to know he’d experienced one of the most horrible trials any person of any race could ever go through.

“There ya go. Finally… thought ya’d never fuckin’ turn off th’ water works.” With his throat this close to your ear, you could clearly hear the strain in his voice. You turned to him in time to see him rub at his neck with a scowl. He caught you looking, but continued to massage his throat for a few minutes. “It’s Commonish. Centaurians ain’t got th’ proper esophageal muscles tah speak it fer long without it givin’ us a sore throat.”

“You weren’t lying about that?”

“Said it was a cold. Figured it’d give me away if I told ya th’ full truth.”

“Do you have anything for it?” You tried to get up off his chest, but he grabbed your upper arms to keep you from going. 

“It ain’t too bad. ‘Sides, it ain’t much use. Throat’s already fucked from years’a strain.” He smirked deviously. “But I been told th’ rasp is sexy, so I don’t mind much.” His grip on your arms loosened as you settled back down.

“What does Centaurian language sound like?” There weren’t many other races you were familiar with or had heard their native language; you’d only heard Garthorians, Xandarians, Kree, Yautja, Baluurians, Calurnians, Katorans, the Shi’ar, the Badoon, and a few others. However, most of those you knew of due to their vast empires, such as the Kree and Shi’ar, but others were simply traveler-type races who’d stopped on Icyclia as the Calurnians and Yautja had often done.

“Whistles, clicks, an’ grunts, mostly.” His eyes focused on the hollow of your throat. “Was forced while I was wit’ th’ Kree tah learn Commonish. Mos’ people don’t know it, but Common started out as a Terran language. Th’ Yautja brought it back from their time on Terra an’ popularized it, since they’s th’ only ones who visit th’ place on a semi-regular basis. They figured out tha’ Terran languages were th’ easiest ones for th’ majority’a th’ universe. Terrans got loads’a muscles in their throats compared tah other races, ‘s one reason why they’s got the best damn music, but wha’ we call Commonish, they call ‘English’. ‘S got th’ least amount’a vocal intonation, esophageal muscular movement, an’ lip’n tongue maneuvers. Simplistic fer most, but fer mah people it’s painful.”

“I had no idea…” Your eyes widened in shock. “Why do you speak Commonish if it hurts you?”

His eyes narrowed. “Cuz I wanna be understood! Kinda fuckin’ weird if yer Cap’n’s whistlin’ an order atchya, ain’t it?”

“I wouldn’t mind being whistled at.” You said without thinking.  
  
He smirked. “Oh, ya wouldn’t?” He quirked an eyebrow as his eyes went lower to settle on your chest. His lips pursed and he let off a squeaky-pitched _phweet_ _phweew_, which caused his arrow to twitch within its holster on the floor, but nothing more. “Tha’s a Terran whistle-word. ‘S one’a th’ easiest things I learned outta th’ language, in fact.”  
  
“What does it mean?”

He grinned and winked up at you. “Sexy as fuck.”

Your cheeks lit up so bright that you could see them. “Oh… uh… okay.” You were slightly suspicious he might be flirting with you, but weren’t entirely sure. _ Moving on from that as quickly as possible _, you changed topics. “So… could you say something in Centaurian? I’d love to hear it.”

“Guess it wouldn’t hurt.” He licked his lips and let off a mid-range octave whistle in a short burst, cut it short with his tongue and then followed it up with a short, gutteral noise. “_ Iiion’dhuu. _”

“And what does that mean?”

“‘S mah name, sweetheart… or, at least, ‘s the name I took after Stakar freed me.” He repeated his first name, and then gave a low, rolling grunt, followed by a sharp whistle and a soft sigh. “_ Iiion’dhuu Udahn’toot’ah _.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Pretty damn hard fer Stakar tah say tha’, so I translated it phonetically best I could.”

“It isn’t your real name?”

He put his arms behind his head. “Didn’t have one. Parents sold me ‘fore I was old ‘nuff tah have one. Centaurians ain’t given a name ‘til they hit ten, an’ I was up on th’ auction block when I was eight. Always figured they sold me ‘fore they named me ‘cuz they didn’t wanna get attached.” His expression was distant now, and you could tell he was no longer looking at you, but at something only he could see. “So, tah spite ‘em, I named mahself, an’ never looked back.”

“Does it have any kind of meaning to it?” In Icyklian language, your own name had meaning. To your knowledge, the number of cultures who simply attributed a cluster of sounds as a person’s meaningless designation were in the minority. It was therefore statistically likely his name had some sort of translatable meaning or definition.

“_ Iiion’dhuu _ … roughly means ‘self-master’, but contextually, it’s closer tah ‘free’.” He blinked and his eyes were clear again. “ _ Udahn’toot’ah _… “ He pointed to the sky. “‘S s’posed tah mean ‘universe’, but it depends on how yer usin’ it. Can mean ‘endless’ or ‘eternity’ or…’forever’-” He touched the tattoo that covered the slaver’s mark and went silent.

You hesitated for a moment, and then placed your hand over his. There were moments in life that words could only cheapen. He was gone again, drowning alone in that despairing sea. The sight broke your heart like so much glass underfoot. When he finally resurfaced, he sucked down air as if he truly _ had _ come near to gifting over his life to the cruel waters.

You lay your head down on his shoulder in an effort to comfort him as he’d comforted you so many times. He clutched you tight as a life raft. Your chest was compressed by the pressure, and your cheek was chafed by sky-tinted curls, but you were more than willing to give whatever he needed. 

It took him some time for him to relax again, though the storm looked to have passed for good. His breath tickled your scalp by stirring up your fine, silvery hair when he finally spoke again. “Gotta say this’s a mite more comfortable’n holdin’ hands through a fuckin’ vent shaft.”

You sighed contentedly. “It is.” A small clenching from your belly made you frown. “But it would be a lot more comfortable if I weren’t starving.”

He grinned. “Ya sure ya wanna take another shot at eatin’? If I was you, I’d wanna stay in bed where it was safe ‘til we’s set off.” His scarlet eyes gleamed as he rolled the both of you over. “Preferably this’un right ‘ere.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. “I don’t have my pajamas with me.”

At first, he appeared stunned and slightly insulted, but then he shook his head and snorted. “Ya… really ain’t gettin’ this, are ya?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Again, the strange inclination to believe he was flirting with you sprang to mind, but you pushed it down. “If you really want to, I can return to my cabin and-”

“You ain’t goin’ nowhere, snowflake.” He growled low in his throat before pressing his lips unceremoniously against yours. His kiss was harsh and sudden, but it only confirmed what you’d already known. When he pulled back, his eyes were a bit more wild and his breathing was heavier. “Now ya understand?”  
  
You beamed up at him. “Yes! Thank you, I’m incredibly happy and honored to be your best friend, too!” You leaned upward to give him a brief peck in return, but found that he’d gone rigid.  
  
He yanked away, glaring. “Wha’ th’ fuckin’ hell?”  
  
Your heart immediately dropped to your stomach. “I thought… we’re friends, right?” You didn’t understand, why was he looking so incredibly frustrated? “We don’t have to be if you aren’t ready for that yet.”  
  
“The fuck’re ya talkin’ ‘bout?” He shook his head. “I kissed ya. Don’t… don’t that mean anythin’?”

“Of course it does!” His newly sour mood was beginning to rub off on you, and you struggled to sit up. He was easily twice your weight, however, so that plan didn’t work in the least. “We’re best friends now, but you’re not acting as if that’s what you want. I’m sorry, but I can’t understand what you’re trying to get at. Could you please tell me?”

He gritted his teeth and pushed off of you to roll over, effectively turning his back to you. “Yeah, sure. We’s friends… pals, even. Now be a friend an’ gimme some time tah fuckin’ sleep.” 

You touched his arm. There was something inside you that insisted his behavior was off, that you’d upset him by answering the way you’d had, but you couldn’t apologize for it unless he explained what you’d done. “Yondu, I’m-”

“Yeah, I know yer sorry.” He grumbled at the wall. “It don’t mean nuthin’. Go back tah yer bunk now ‘fore tha’ boys board fer th’ evenin’ an’ see ya.”

His dismissal hurt, but this was his room and his ship. With respect to his wishes, you collected yourself as quietly as you could and headed out his door. For a time, you simply waited outside his door and debated if you should go back and demand a proper answer. That thought soon passed because you knew the Captain better than that; he was too stubborn to give you a straight answer if he didn’t wish to.

Instead of going straight to your room as he’d asked, you decided to wander the ship aimlessly. As you passed the front hatch, an oddity caught your eye. It appeared as if one of the pressurizing hoses had somehow become knocked loose and was broken. This ship was a nightmare! It was practically a deathtrap before you were hired on, and all these tiny quick-fixes you’d done hadn’t solved the overall issue; its age.  
  
But Yondu trusted you to keep this rust bucket puttering along, so you were going to do your absolute best. After a quick trip back to your room, you had changed into your jumpsuit and returned with your tools and supplies. A quick rubber patch was all that was required to fix the break in the hose itself. It was something you could’ve done in your sleep. You sprayed liquid rubber along the crack in the hose and, while you waited for that to dry, did a quick examination of the attachment it had popped off of to get an idea how best to repair it.

A series of several steel bolts had held it into place against the pressure equalization pump. One of these had grown so rusted that it simply snapped… likely from all of the coming and going through the hatch recently. Oh well, that was just a matter of replacing the bolt to secure it into place. 

You’d sized the bolt and were in the middle of replacing it when the hose began to flail and hiss as the hatch was opened. You didn’t bother glancing up; the men tended to ignore you if they happened to see you working. “I’ll be out of your way in a second. I just need to finish-“ Your eyes flew wide as you were hauled bodily to your feet and slammed against the wall. A screw cut into the flesh of your cheek from the force of the push, causing you to hiss in pain and shock.  
  
“Ven, ‘ey… stop it.” Someone slurred.

“No, damnit!” Breath that reeked of old food and fermented drink filled your nose and made you gag. “Ya see this? This’uns gonna be th’ reason Cap’n wants us gone.”

“It sucks, yeah… but ‘tain’t no reason tah hit up on ‘er. Th’ code says-”

“Tah hell wit’ th’ code!” The voice near your ear snarled. “Yondu’s gonna take tha’ damn Xenomorph job, make us work it, an’ then throw us off ‘fore we can claim our share!”

“Yondu’s greedy, sure, but… mate, he ain’t unfair. We’d get our cut-”

“SHUDDAP!”  
  
A name came to you, one that Kraglin had mentioned the other day in a passing, and fright took hold as you realized this must be Venrick. Your body quivered under his harsh grip, while panic set in. Hot and cold flashes ran up your spine, your flesh became pebbled with goosebumps, and the sting of your gashed cheek went to the back of your mind. Fear had flooded your body with adrenaline, which pushed your heart into overdrive as you silently gathered the courage to do what must be done.

You felt mildly nauseous as bile gathered at the back of your throat, but did your best to remain limp until your attacker made the mistake of relaxing his grip. Calmly making use of the fact that only half of your body was pinned, you snuck your hand into your pocket and obtained some leverage in such a way as to be able to kick backward at Venrick’s shin. He yowled in pain, and you took advantage of his shock to shake yourself free. 

You swung around and stabbed out straight and true like the knife in your hand was the stinger of some angry insect. It was a sickening thing, the sound and feel of flesh being cut and bone being struck, and it caused your grip to loosen as your stomach roiled. Unfortunately for you, the wound only angered Venrick all the more. 

You cried out as his knuckles met your nose and blood gushed down your face. Still, he was clutching at the side of his ribs where she had stabbed and groaning. “Grab ‘er an’ git ‘er tah th’ fission core.” He panted, grinning with menace in his eyes. “Gitchyer ass-”

You didn’t hear the whistle. You didn’t see the arrow. It happened too fast for your brain to fully comprehend, but you did see Venrick’s entire body jerk and then go lax. A scarlet trail punched through his temple like some sort of party trick-hat. Bits of bone and brain matter were splashed against the wall in a waterfall of viscera. You stumbled back clutching your nose and doing your best not to vomit as the Captain stepped into view of your watering eyes. 

He stepped around you, his arrow at his shoulder, looking like some demon with hellfire in his eyes and murder on his mind. “ “Would ya mind explainin’ what the ever-loving fuck is goin’ on here?” He asked, his tone deathly poisonous.

The Ravager who’d stood up for you stammered to try to grasp for an answer as the arrow snapped through the air to press its point against his forehead. “Was Ven who messed wit’ ‘er. I was tryin’ tah talk ‘im outta it. I swear, Cap’n.

Yondu scoffed in disbelief. “Ya ‘spect me tah believe tha’ wit’ th’ state she’s in?!” He roared and blood began to trickle down his crewman’s face where the arrow pricked his skin. His scarlet eyes narrowed into slits and he bared his ragged teeth. “I should shove ya out the airlock-“

“No, he’s telling the truth.” The Ravager had spoken for you, it was only fair that you speak for him in turn. “It was Venrick.” You whimpered a little as Yondu grabbed your face and turned it to try to examine the damage.

“Goddamn…” He shook his head in disgust and then turned his attention back to the other Ravager. “Clean this mess up. When th’ others come back, tell ‘em all tah meet me in the Commissary.”

Relief flooded the crewman’s face as he scrambled to obey. “Yes, Cap’n! Thanks!” He cast you a grateful look before Yondu pulled you away.

“How many fuckin’ times’re we gonna do this Med Bay dance, eh?”


	7. Kissable, Hugable, Unbelievable

“I honestly believe whenever we land on Contraxia I’ll simply have to avoid leaving my bed except to wash and have meals.” You muttered. Your cheek was tended to as well as could be, with tape securing a thin wad of gauze over the wound.  
  
“Think tha’ might be best, darlin’.” Yondu agreed. He was currently lounging in a comfortable chair at a smaller lunch table that rested on a dias at the head of the Commissary. He’d allowed you to pull another chair up beside his own. The third seat at his right-hand side was empty, having been reserved for Kraglin’s use. 

“Please don’t be too hard on them.” You murmured as a handful of people began to file inside. “The rest of them followed orders, it’s not their fault.”

“‘M fully aware’a tha’, snowflake.” He leaned forward with a displeased frown. “But it ain’t jus’ him I’s gonna kick, an’ they know it. Gotta make sure ain’t nobody gonna get no similar ideas.”

“Right, I know.” You followed Kraglin’s lanky form as he picked his way around tables and other, wobbly-legged Ravagers. A great number were clearly deep in their cups by this time; they were barely aware of themselves as they staggered along behind their fellows. “For having been assaulted, Kraglin is faring pretty well. I was sure he’d need bedrest for a couple of days before he was well enough to be going about like he currently is.”

“Boy don’t look it, but he’s tough as nails an’ better still.” 

When the First Mate finally took his place, a hush fell over the entire crew. They shifted in their chairs, with many sharing discomforted glances at each other. Yondu stayed silent as well, until every single crewman had finally gathered there. His face was hard and cold as stone, but his eyes had been struck alight like a match dragged across crushed glass.They flickered to and fro, and lingered on specific people in the crowd.

His chair let out a deafening screech when it was pushed back as he suddenly stood. He slammed his hand against the table. “A Captain ain’t a Captain if he dunno wha’s goin’ on wit’ ‘is crew.” His drawl curled like smoke from his lips, slow and steady in a calm and lazy manner, but the anger rolled off of him in waves. It thickened the air enough to make it difficult to take a breath. “An’ I **_know_** there’s a few’a ya here what thinks I’m gonna hold back shares from our next job.”

He glared around the room. “I’m here tah tell ya tha’ ain’t gonna fuckin’ happen. Ifin’ I let ya go after th’ fact, it ain’t gonna be fuckin’ empty-handed. That’d be damn stupid an’ I ain’t out tah be short-changin’ any’a ya. Ain’t never not paid a man or woman tha’ earned it, y’all can ask whoever ya like.”

“But tha’ ain’t all I got tah say.” He hissed. “See this ‘ere lady?” He pulled you out of your chair with a forceful squeeze of your shoulder. “She’s off-limits. Might not have her rags yet, but she’s a Ravager as much as ya’ll is, an’ tha’ means if any’a lay a single finger on ‘er an’ she don’t like it… there’s gonna be blood.” He held up his hands with a cruel smile. “It’s simple. It’s 1+1 equals ** _dead on the muthafuckin’ floor_ ** **. **I don’t care why. I don’t care who. Hell, I don’t fuckin’ care if I hafta kill ten or twen’y’a ya’ll ‘fore yah catch on.”

He let that sink in before continuing on. “Th’ ones I’m plannin’ tah kick… ya’ll can join up ‘gain wit’ any’a th’ other clans. ‘Tain’t none’a mah business whatchya do, but I’ma drop ya off at a busy port wit’ a good chunk’a cash. I better not see yer faces show up whenever I’m recruitin’ ‘gain. So help me, by the fuckin’ gods’a hundred galaxies, I’ll put this fuckin’ arrow through yer heads ‘fore ya have a chance tah open yer damn gobs. I don’t tolerate th’ fuckin’ attitude some’a ya’s got, an’ ya know who ya fuckin’ are.”

“Finally, I know I wasn’t clear on how much we’s gettin’ paid fer the Xenomorph gig. Tha’d be two mil’, an’ tha’s more’n ‘nuff fer all’a us tah be coastin’ easy fer a long time.” There was a soft buzz of conversation until he cut off the whispers with a hard fist to the wood. “QUIET!” 

He narrowed his eyes. “Wit’ ha’ said, I’s got more news. Dispatcher Yog sent me a hologram last night tellin’ me we ain’t gonna jus’ be deliverin’ th’ Queen. We’s gonna be dockin’ on a jerry-rigged landin’ pad far from the bloodin’ temple they pitched deep in the mountains. Ya’ll know how those crazy fucks’re all ‘bout trials an’ riskin’ they’s asses fer no real good reason. They told ‘im there’s gonna be shit we’s gotta avoid settin’ off… traps… locks…logic gates...” There was a collective moan and a great deal of head-shaking. “_ But _ …” He fished around in his duster for a second and then with drew a heavy key as thick around as your wrist and as long as your forearm. “They gave us this. It’ll open an alternate route tah take us ‘round th’ traps an’ shit straight into th’ main chamber. They claimed they stocked th’ place wit’ an’ auto-feeder tah give th’ bitch access tah liquid silicon, acid, an’ iron fer food, meanin’ we’s ain’t gotta worry ‘bout feedin’ ‘er on th’ way over. Better tah keep ‘er weak anyhow. Maybe we can feed ‘er all the rust flakes comin’ off this goddamned space _ shit _.” 

He earned a few laughs with that one and smirked. “Now tha’ we’s all on th’ same page… yer all dismissed. Go getchya a last bit’a ass or drink in ‘fore hittin’ th’ hay tonight. We’re meetin’ th’ Yautja t’morra at th’ Badoon hypergate at 23:00.”

There was a hustle for the door as everyone did their best to get out of the lunchroom to enjoy their final night of freedom. Once the room had finally emptied Kraglin turned to Yondu with a look of exasperation. “_ Cap’n _…”

“I already know whatchyer gonna say. Shove it up yer ass. I only got word’a this last night. Hell, I cussed out Yog ‘til his ears was ringin’.” He rubbed wearily at his fin and winced.

Kraglin’s exasperation turned to concern. “Fin hurtin’ ya again?” To which Yondu grunted and stood up without answering. That was, apparently, enough of an answer for the Xandarian. He took a bottle from within his coat and tossed it to Yondu, who popped the cap and dry-hawked four pills down. He threw the bottle back over his shoulder as he was walking away.

“He gets phantom pains when he’s stressin’. Don’t like tah admit it, though.” Kraglin explained quietly to you once the Captain was out of earshot. “Kree cut off ‘is tahlei tah make ‘im compliant.” He chuckled. “Stubborn as he is, it only pissed ‘im off more.”

“Kraglin, can I ask you something?” 

“Sure, go ‘head an’ shoot.”

“What does a kiss on the mouth mean in general?” If it sounded odd, it felt even stranger to be asking it. Icyclians, seeing as your people valued touch so highly, saw such a thing as an act of an incredibly deep friendship… to the point of considering your friend as family. You kissed your father, mother, and brother often. There were more gestures that remained strictly familial, of course, but that was neither here nor there.

“Don’t yer people kiss tha’ way?” 

“Yes we do, but it means something different than I suspect it means to a lot of other people.”

He paused in thought, possibly trying to phrase his response in a way you’d understand. “It can mean a few things. Mostly, it’s something shared by people who’re attracted tah each other romantically. Other times, it’s about jus’ another part lust an’ a fun fore-runner tah sex.”

“So, it isn’t something related at all to friends or family?”

He raised his eyebrow. “Uh… nope. Not usually platonic, that’d be kinda weird. Platonic kisses are usually on the head or cheeks.” He immediately backtracked when he saw the concern in your eyes. “‘Ey, ya know, I mean… it ain’t weird if tha’s wha’s normal fer you. It’s jus’ how it feels fer a lotta other people.”

“Oh… I… I see.” You stared at the patterns the grain of wood caused on the polished table silently. No wonder Yondu had reacted the way he did. You couldn’t be sure if he were simply attracted to you or if it meant more than that, but you were leaning toward sexual attraction. That kind of thing typically came easily, even to your people, and he definitely didn’t seem like the type to desire being tied down by that most serious of emotional connections. “So, he is attracted to me. That’s… strange. I’m not considered all that pretty by my people’s standards. I’m too tall and my hair isn’t straight. Unfortunately, I’m also distinctly lacking in the body hair department.” 

“Um…”

“Most Icyclians enjoy pubic hair. It’s considered incredibly attractive. Sadly… I am bald.”

“Okaaaay... uh…” He appeared quite disturbed. 

“I do have rather long eyelashes, though!” You added hopefully. “Also, I have another question!”

“Errr…” He seemed to be regretting this decision to accept the conversation. “A’ight…”

“What is the sexual etiquette? It’s such a beautiful act to us. It is the ultimate, most tender of touches… allowing someone to not only caress your skin, but to be _ inside _… it’s practically spiritual. Public orgies are a spectacle on Icyclia. We have several every week! You should come to see them sometime! Many couples go as part of their first dates… OH, do you think I should invite Yondu to one?” This was quite exciting. You’d never thought you’d ever be able to participate in one of the orgies before!

He immediately got up from the table, blushing like mad from his ears to his neck. “Uh… it ain’t a public thing. As fer invitin’ Yondu… I think somethin’ a li’l more private might be up ‘is alley. He ain’t quite th’ type tah share… ‘least… far as I know. Not tha’ I _ wanna _know. Guy’s like an uncle tah me.” He made a face. 

“Oh, I understand.” You nodded, but you really didn’t have a clue at all. “I’m making you uncomfortable, I’m sorry. I simply don’t comprehend why it’s a taboo.”

“I dunno... just is. An’ body hair is a personal preference… I really, REALLY don’t need tah know wha’ he likes. Tha’s fer you an’ him tah discuss… not in front of me, please.”

“Well, I’ll simply have to have a talk with him, then! Of course, I’m not entirely sure for all of this. It’s all happening so fast!” He was sweet, certainly, but this was nothing close to what you’d expected. “Where did he go, anyway?”

“Prolly tah th’ cockpit. Good luck wit’ that talk, darlin’.” He retreated as fast as he was able and was halfway across the room. “See ya, I’m gonna go have a shower… or thirty. Maybe try tah find a neuralyzer, too.”

You smiled and waved. “Have a good night! I hope you get laid!” 

For a while, you sat alone in the Commissary planning how you would try to bring this all up to the Captain. Would it be best to simply play by his own ideas of how these things should play out? It worried you a bit… a lot, really… to think this might be only lust on his part. For as much as the general topic of sex made people uncomfortable, it seemed that acting on it was treated bordered on frivolity.

Honestly, you weren’t sure how _ you _ felt about this. This wasn’t something to dive right into. Perhaps it was best to wait? The two of you had agreed that you were friends, but this obviously requires more research, study, and practical application. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to bother him right now, though, as he was definitely busy if he was at the head of the ship.

You got up from the table to get a head start on resting up. If you thought about all of this with a fresh mind, there’d be a better chance of coming up with some simply splendid ideas to show him how flattered you were for his interest.

You took a short shower upon getting back to your room, and then climbed straight into bed with a book in hand. It was comfortable, but you found your thoughts wandering back to the earlier cuddling and sighed. His company would be nice, and you wondered how long he intended to stay up doing… whatever it was he was doing. He could, for all you knew, be planning out a good route to that hypergate or even speaking with the Dispatcher again. He hadn’t been happy with the idea of planting the queen inside a Yautja blooding temple.

The longer you thought about the mission, the deeper the sense of dread. If everyone was careful, it would go smoothly… perhaps only a few people would be killed. Luckily enough, this mission should be a fairly quick one. It did give you an idea on how to impress Yondu, however, because you’d met with a good number of Yautja clans over the years. They weren’t a common sight, but they did have a favorite hunting ground near Icyclia, so they regularly stopped by to trade supplies and have work done. It happened often enough that most of your people knew basic phrases in Yautjan.   
  
A point of pride for you was your mother was marvelously fluent in their language. She’d spent a long time teaching the rest of your family as well. You’d reached a conversational level and had a good grasp of their customs. If necessary, you could step in to assist in translating. Yondu did value you for your usefulness, after all. Whatever could make your presence more vital was a positive thing.

Eventually having grown tired after a few chapters, you’d marked your place and had put it aside when your door opened and Yondu marched inside. “Oh hi! Did you need-” Without a word, he reached over and tore open the front of your nightdress and pressed his face to your chest. “...Alrighty then. I suppose _ you’ve _been doing a bit of reading as well!” 

His response was to lave the skin above your heart with a warm, open-mouthed kiss that stole your breath. He gradually moved up your chest, placing tantalizing smooches every few inches right up to your throat. He pressed the top of his head lightly under your chin before claiming your mouth for his own. Acting on imparted instinct and memory, when you two parted for air, you did your part to finish it with a kiss to his forehead, cheeks, and the tip of his nose.

“Seems like a lotta steps for a single kiss.” His voice was deeper than before, more resonant and rougher like he’d eaten a handful of gravel. “Ya better fuckin’ see what I mean now or I’ma jus’ hafta....” He wound a handful of your hair to lightly pull your head back and expose your throat. His teeth dug in, yet not so deep as to draw blood yet, while his other hand clamped down around your hip.. He gave one of the curls a playful tug that ripped a moan from your lips. “Now, tha’s wha’ I like tah hear. Talk tah me, Snowflake.” He purred in your ear.

“This is definitely...a new… d-development.” You shivered a little. He flipped between moods like a lightswitch, leaving no room for boredom. Frustrated, furious… passionate… sweet… all in one day, it was as irregular as it was intoxicating. 

“By the way, how do you feel about orgies?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A playlist for this story, as is my schtick. --> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLTFi2nj7iSZoVAy6Y2X6qNV_D3_JIof7l


	8. Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On

Rhythmic pounding and stomping woke you with a start the next morning. Bleary-eyed, you stumbled out of bed and dressed with an urgency borne of alarm. In less than five minutes, you’d pulled on your boots and popped your head out to see whatever could be the matter. This was a port; surely they weren’t being attacked?! 

What you saw was Kraglin, going through and slamming the butt of his fist into doors and inciting others to do the same. Half of them had eyes that were bloodshot and red-rimmed, but they still groggily banged away. Your curiosity was piqued, and therefore you trotted along behind silently to see what all this ruckus could be about.

“**What will we do wit’ a drunken sailor? What will we do wit’ a drunken sailor? What will we do wit’ a drunken sailor? EARLY IN TH’ MARNIN’!**” You came out of the hallway mere feet behind Kraglin, who had cupped his hands around his mouth as he prompted his fellow Ravagers with a sparkle in his eye.

Ravagers scuttled about, some of them with arms full of ropes and tethers, while others ran around with monitors and Galacoms programming in weight equations to ensure proper lift-off. Meanwhile, they all more or less sang along. “**Way hay an’ up she rises! Way hay an’ up she rises! Way hay an’ up she rises! Early in th’ marnin’!**”

You stared blankly at all of them. “What in the name of Arturus…”

Kraglin grinned at you. “‘S a tradition Peter started. Meant it as a prank, he did, but then it caught on an’ now we’s singin’ it e’ery’ time we ship out from ‘ere.” He clambered atop the railing and swung himself up to the first level crosswalk with ease. “**Shave ‘is belly wit’ a rusty razor! Shave ‘is belly wit’ a rusty razor! Shave ‘is belly wit’ a rusty razor! Early in th’ marnin’!**”

From around the bend, you saw the Captain come strutting down wearing a similar wild grin. His thumbs stuck in his belt, his eyes followed his crewmen as they set about their chores. A few of the mates were moving along the third diagonal crosswalk with a broom, mop, and a bucket of soapy water. When they’d reached the end, they tied a rope to the bucket and slung it down to the second level boys, sloshing a bit all over and getting you splattered with a few drops in the process. “**Way hay an’ up she rises! Way hay an’ up she rises! Way hay an’ up she rises! Early in th’ marnin’!**”

You looked to Yondu, certainly he would belay this madness?! No, he wouldn’t. In fact, he was bobbing his head along and knocking his fist against the wall as well. “**Put ‘im in a M-ship ‘til he’s sober! Put ‘im in a M-ship ‘til he’s sober! Put ‘im in a M-ship ‘til he’s sober! Early in th’ marnin’!”**

From far above, you saw one of the men grab hold of a pulley and your heart nearly stopped as he flung himself over the edge of the crosswalk to use his weight to haul gravity-simulating equipment up to the third level. “Oh, gods, DON’T DO THAT YOU’RE GOING TO-”

“Whaahoo!” He landed on the flat board of a rising lift right on time and laughed heartily before giving you a wave and a wink.  
  
“...hurt yourself.” You sighed and deflated even as the Captain came around to curl an arm around your shoulders reassuringly.  
  
“ **Way hay an’ up she rises! Way hay an’ up she rises! Way hay an’ up she rises! Early in th’ marnin’!** ” Kraglin caught a small box of preserved food packets as he landed neatly beside you once again, and tossed them portside to Gersh on his way to the Commissary.  
  
“Picked up th’ food like I asked ya tah do, I see.” Yondu nodded approvingly as the crew continued to howl, sing, and swing about like a bunch of space-faring monkeys.

“Yup!” The First Mate opened his arms as another crate was thrown his way. He threw it again to the cook and dusted his hands before elbowing you gently in the side. “**Put ‘im in th’ bed wit’ th’ Captain’s lady! Put ‘im in th’ bed wit’ th’ Captain’s lady! Put ‘im in th’ bed wit’ th’ Captain’s lady! Early in th’ marnin’!**”

Yondu scowled and hauled his rowdy friend by his collar. “Gitchyer ass back tah loadin’ th’ supplies, ya fraggin’ bastich!” He gave him a kick in the pants for good measure.

“**Way hay an’ up she rises! Way hay an’ up she rises! Way hay an’ up she rises!** **Early in th’ marnin’!**” The ship echoed with the good-natured voices of the crew. The energy that some of them displayed was astounding, given the fact that you _knew_ they were all likely hungover as heck. It was admirable how the song lifted them up and encouraged them to keep going. “**Tha’s what we do wit’ a drunken sailor! Tha’s what we do wit’ a drunken sailor! Tha’s what we do wit’ a drunken sailor! Early in th’ mornin’!**”

A tiny smile finally graced your lips as you shook your head and joined in. “**Way hay an’ up she rises! Way hay an’ up she rises! Way hay an’ up she rises! Early in th’ mornin’!**” The rest of the crew noticed your voice raising up to meet theirs, prompting them all to let out whoops and hollers.

“Good on ya, snowflake!” Yondu clapped you hard on the back as he stomped the heel of his boot in time. “**Way hay an’ up she rises! Way hay an’ up she rises! Way hay an’ up she rises! Early in th’ mornin’!** ”  
  
You were laughing right along with them until Yondu took his leave. The music died down as the engine creaked and the ship shuddered, and everyone let out one final, energetic cheer before they broke through Contraxia’s atmosphere into the edge of space. With a final glance all around, you headed back to your room to get ready for another day’s worth of work on this quirky ship.

A few broken hinges, rusted coolant caps, and cracked pipes later, you were taking a break in one of the cargo holds when Kraglin came around to see you. “‘Ey! Been lookin’ fer ya, everywhere!” He grinned as he offered you lunch.

“I’ve been kinda everywhere today.” You admitted once you’d swallowed a few bites. “There were busted water pipes in Relian’s room… heaven knows how he managed to do that…” You rolled your eyes a bit. “Then, I had to tap out a few dings from the coolant caps down in the brig _ and _ polish off what looked like thirty cycles of rust, dust, and dry coolant. It’s almost like the people Yondu bought this mess of scrap off of didn’t take care of it at all.”  
  
“Oh, ya shoulda seen ‘er before.” He slurped up a bit of soup with gusto. “She was used fer haulin’ trash out tah one o’ the Vrassian garbage processin’ moons.”  
  
You wrinkled your nose in disgust. “Oh, gross.”

“Yeah, me an’ Cap had tah clean ‘er out wit’ only ‘bout half th’ number’a people we got now.” He shrugged. “Th’ inorganic stuff weren’t too bad, but th’ diapers… th’ food waste… bio-hazard crap… tha’ was th’ bits I hope I ain’t never gotta haul ‘round again.”

“I don’t blame you. I have all the respect for people who do that as a living.” 

He got a thoughtful look as he chewed a bit of bread. “So… uh… I might regret this, but… how’d yer talk wit’ Cap’n go?”

You beamed bright as ray of sunshine. “It was wonderful! I’m sure we’ll be well on our way to fucking like mad soon!” You sighed out of disappointment. “He did put his foot down on the orgies, though… I was so excited for that.”  
  
“Uh… tha’s a cryin’ shame.” He awkwardly patted your back.  
  
“Oh well, the important thing is that we’re both on the same page now _ and _ I’ve learned a few things about common culture.”

“Tha’s good.” He swiped up a bit of soup broth with another hunk from his bread roll. “Ya know… I didn’t come down ‘ere fer lunch.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, see… Yautja have matriarchal society. They’s gonna respect a woman more’n a man, an’ Cap’n wants tah see if he can negotiate fer a bigger payoff since we jus’ now got told they’s wantin’ us tah fuckin’ _ plant the damn queen _ in one’a their fuckin’ death temples. Can’t jus’ throw tha’ out there after tha’ fact.”

“You’re right, it’s absurd.” Not to mention rude! It would heighten the risk ten-fold. “I hope it’s a small queen. They can grow up to and beyond fifteen feet tall or so I’ve heard.” You’d seen a few pictures of queens, and even once met a Yautja clan who’d a juvenile queen caged up in their ship. You’d never seen it in-person, as your father hadn’t allowed you on-board during that particular instance. “But sure, I can help. I know a little Yautjan, too. I don’t figure they’d respect me _ too much _, though, because if you’ve ever seen a Yautja woman… they’re almost as burly as the men.”

“Dunno if I have. Hard tah tell, like ya said.” He grinned. “It’s 15:49 right now. We’s hookin’ up at the hypergate platform in a few hours. Think ya can refrain from takin’ on any extra-big repairs ‘fore we need ya?”

“Yeah, I’ll swing by a little before 23:00… erm… where is this meeting taking place?”

“Up in th’ conference closet.” He noticed you giving him a weird look and he chuckled. “It’s fuckin’ tiny, so’s we call it a closet. ‘S right where ya’d figure it tah be.”

You knew precisely where a conference room on a ship like this was. “Are you _ sure _ you all haven’t changed it? When I first came onboard, so many random things had been mixed up, replaced, added to, and rearranged that I couldn’t have found my way without a map!”

“She’s a maze, yeah.” He admitted. “But the conference room’s in the same place up on th’ third level like ‘s s’posed tah be.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

“Welp, thanks fer keepin’ me company, sweetheart.” He squeezed your shoulder briefly and stacked the trays up to give them back to Gersh. “I’ll see ya in a few.” You waved him off and stayed a while to let your stomach settle before getting right back to work.

The grates of the second level flooring had somehow been damaged; possibly by heavy pieces of garbage being dropped or pushed along the floor. It wasn’t something you could fix without purchasing a few replacement grate-tiles and rubber floor insulation squares. To get that, you’d been forced to send a hologram to Yondu (much faster to do that than walk all the way to the cockpit) and ask for approval to order what you needed and have it ready for pick-up at the hypergate dock. 

Because the order was a cheap one, he gave his permission and spent an hour or so browsing various stores via your Galacom until you found a promising set. The actual fix would have to wait for a while, so you simply dashed down back down to the cargo hold to pull apart a few empty pallets to span the gap in the floor. It would work for now as long as no one tried to haul anything heavy through the hall.  
  
With that completed, you moved on to various other tiny projects; fixing Relian’s showerhead (How?! How did this man keep breaking his bathroom?!), unclogging a toilet (not Relian, but it was across the hall from his room, so… you still blamed him.), and repairing several metal shelving supports in the Commissary’s pantry. Oh, and repairing the refrigeration unit while you were there because the condensing coil was loose.  
  
“Alright, Gersh!” You crawled out from behind the unit and pulled off your gloves. “That should do it.” You pulled up your welding mask as well. “That solder should hold for a few months… or until the Captain buys a decent ship that isn’t falling to pieces around our ears.”

The chef grumbled under his breath and pointed to you with his spatula. “So help me gods, girl, if I had mah way ‘bout it, I’d put this shitpile on autopilot an’ let it drive itself into th’ fuckin’ sun.”

“I hear you.” You nodded sympathetically. 

He trotted over to the walk-in freezer to grab a small, cardboard box from one of the shelves. “Here’s tha’ puff cream I promised fer tha’ good work.” He pulled out a three-inch long pastry with thick icing squiggled along its length.  
  
“Thank you!” You bit into the treat with a giant smile. “Is there anything else you’ll need before I head off?”

“Nah, tha’s it. An’ stop bein’ so fuckin’ polite.” He shooed you out the door. “Sprinkle in a few curses e’ery now an’ then. Tain’t natural tah be tha’ sweet. Makes a bunch’a guys like us nervous.”

“Sure fucking thing, Gersh!” 

He paused, looking slightly taken aback, and scratched his head. “Uh… ya know what? Forget wha’ I said. Don't do tha'.”

You shrugged. “Okay! I hope you have a lovely day!”

“Uh… yeah… you, too… I guess.” He lumbered back into the depths of the kitchen, still looking fantastically bamboozled. 

It was 22:34 by this time, so you decided to head up a little early. The conference ‘closet’ was exactly in the spot it was supposed to be, as Kraglin had assured you. You checked through the tiny glass pane to see if anyone was there yet, but there wasn’t a single soul. “Well, I’m sure it’s fine if I just wait inside.” You said to yourself and plopped down in a seat at the table.

Yondu was next to show, with Kraglin close behind. “Kraglin says ya know a li’l Yautjan.” 

“Yes, my mother taught me most of what I know, although I have to warn you I’m not very good. It’s difficult to learn.” 

“Sure yeh’ll do fine.” He eyed the hologram projector embedded in the center of the table. “Way better’n me. Ain’t had many run-ins wit’ ‘em. Don’t think they like workin’ wit Ravagers much ‘less they hafta.”

“Well, I thought that was a universal thing. We are technically dangerous criminals.”

Kraglin looked you up and down, then snorted. “Oh yeah, yer real dangerous. Gonna kill us wit’ cute. I’s terrified.”

“Boo!” You lunged at him playfully, and he recoiled in mock horror.

“‘Kay, you two. Knock it off.” The button of the projector was blinking neon green. He tapped it twice and the pellucid blue of a standard hologram rippled into existence. Three Yautja glared into their side of the hologram and clicked their mandibles.

“They said they’d believed Yog had understood them when they mentioned before that the deal entailed us taking the queen into the temple.” You listened hard, trying to be sure you’d distinguished the vocalizations correctly. “Uhh… they… I think… they said they sent the key several days ago, but I…” You’d always had difficulty recalling the different clicks and intonations that paired off with specific numbers. 

“Yeah, well, tha’s not what we were told.” Yondu growled.

You paused, trying your absolute best to translate that statement without it being as rude as he had said it. You clucked your tongue and did your best to imitate their chittering, although your mother always warned you how awful your pronunciation was. Fortunately enough, they understood. 

“Wha’d they say this time?”

“That you should get a new Dispatcher.” You smiled a little. “And they made a joke about skinning the old one alive.” You saw Kraglin’s face go white. “It was just a joke! They’re not actually going to do it… at least, I fairly certain they’re not serious....” 

“Tell ‘em tha’ two million credits ain’t enough.” He ordered. “We didn’t fuckin’ know we’d have tah go into the damn temple.”

You relayed his words much more politely to the cluster of Yautja, who immediately bristled with anger. Their mandibles flew wide as they bared their teeth in guttural roars aimed at your Captain. “They’re not… sorry, they’re quite unhappy with that.”

“Does it fuckin’ look like I care? I’m th’ one riskin’ all our asses fer this!” Yondu glared pointedly at them. “If they’s so fuckin’ dissatisfied, why don’t they git their asses tah tha’ moon themselves, eh?”

“You know they understand a little Common, right?” You winced as two of them made incredibly menacing gestures. Oh boy, this was _ not _ going well. “You’re not making this job easier for me.”

“Let’s take a minute, a’ight?” Kraglin stepped in front of the Captain to partially block him from view.

You did your best to mitigate the situation, and managed to quell the initial insulted reactions of the Yautja party by repeating how well the blooding would go if your fellow Ravagers were provided more compensation. It was a hard sell, and you were forced to explain over and over again. You appealed to their pride, the value they placed in the hunt, and their hopes for the unblooded to succeed. “I’ve praised them on how complicated and well-planned we’re sure their traps are, that we’re concerned about accidentally setting off one and destroying the opportunity for their unblooded clansman to have a truly glorious hunt. How it would ruin the victory over his prey.” If there was one language the Yautja knew, it was that of the joy in the chase and challenge. “They’ve calmed down considerably. Now, how much more should we ask for?”

“Another million.” Was Yondu’s immediate answer. “Another million or no deal!”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you worked through that in your head. As much as you admire him, Yondu’s all-or-nothing stance on things was currently getting on your nerves. “I’ll see what I can do.” This would have to have the right spin put to it, but Predators weren’t exactly known for their haggling or negotiation skills. “They’re willing to pay half a million more and give an advance of one million for insurance, but that is where their leniency stops.”

Yondu let out a venomous curse under his breath, and dragged his fingers through the short growth of whiskers along the edge of his chin. Finally, after a few moments, he relented. “A’ight… fine. Better’n nuthin’ I guess.”

You immediately informed the Yautja party, who talked amongst themselves for a moment. One of them made a sharp gesture toward you. One of them snapped his jaws at the other, and all three broke out into hoarse, hissing laughter that had Kraglin looking nervous. “No, no it’s fine.” You reassured him. “They’re teasing again. This is honestly a very friendly group! We’re terribly lucky.”

“Wha’s so fuckin’ funny, huh?”

You giggled and took out a small bolt from your pocket to absently fiddle with it to avoid looking at him. “They said… um… it’s really sweet… a compliment… but if I were you, I’d advise Dispatcher Yog to be careful if he sees them again. They want to give me _ his _ job.”

Yondu scoffed. “Tha’ fat ol’ Sluggoid ain’t good fer nuthin’ anyhow.” He braced himself on the table as he stood. “Tell ‘em we’re shippin’ out.”

You nodded, smiled at the Yautja and wished them a good day. Just like that, the brief council with them was over. You shoved down your personal fears about the mission to be as supportive as possible to both Yondu and Kraglin. If anyone could lead the crew through peril, it would be them.

“This will be my first hypergate!” You announced as the three of you walked away from the conference closet. 

Kraglin frowned and shared a look with Yondu, who didn’t look pleased. “We figured it would be.” He sounded apprehensive. “Snowflake, a hypergate ain’t like no warp-engine jump. ‘S a li’l rougher than tha’.”

“It’s just a mini-wormhole maintained by an anti-matter gradient feed.” You smiled widely. “I’m sure we’ll be fine!”

“It gets pretty rocky. This ship’s rickety as it is… there’s gonna be a lotta stress on it. There’s a chance it could bust a hole or two an’ collapse a part’a th’ ship. If tha’ happens…” Kraglin trailed off. “There’s enough M-ships fer us tah evacuate.”

“Don’t wanna risk any stragglers gettin’ left behind, so… we’re enactin’ a buddy system.”

“Okay, so which one of you am I going to be with?”

“Me.” Yondu yanked you to his side by the waist. “We’ll head up tah the cockpit tah undock from the landin’ pad of th’ gate, then autopilot’s gonna take ‘er from there. You an’ me’re hunker down in mah room ‘til we’re through in th’ meantime.”

“How long will it take to get through the gate?”

“‘Round about thirty minutes, give or take.”

“Alright, that’s fine! I’ll just bring a book.” 

You followed him into the cockpit, where he waited until Kraglin sent him a hologram to let him know the queen had been loaded. Yondu didn’t immediately take off; instead, he chose to check his clan credit account. Apparently pleased by what he’d seen, he tapped in the directions for the autopilot to follow and hastened you back to his room. 

You didn’t make it longer than five minutes through the hypergate before you were already bent over the toilet in Yondu’s bathroom. The whole ship shook harder than a chihuahua during earthquake, and your stomach obviously couldn’t take the strain. Misery kept you clinging to the bowl even as the ship tilted from side to side. The gravity core would make sure it didn’t roll, but as you stumbled from his bathroom into Yondu’s arms, thoughts of the _ Hispaniola _’s hull crumpling under the pressures of the wormhole began to creep in.

“Snowflake, yer shakin’.” He draped a blanket around your shoulders, and into his lap you were then tugged. He tucked your head under his chin, and curled up with you in a corner of the room on the floor to wait this all out. Though he had a strong sense of balance, even he was straining to keep from being pitched about like a boat on a stormy sea.  
  
All around you, the _ Hispaniola _ shrieked like a tortured soul. The walls bowed outward, bolts screamed to be loosened from their prisons. Your ears were popping to the point where you could barely hear a thing aside from his voice. His lips were at your ear, soothing and shushing you as best he could. “‘S gonna be fine. Jus’ a li’l bit longer, promise. We’ll be touchin’ down ‘fore ya know it.”  
  
You wanted to scream, but your jaw was padlocked shut out of sheer terror. All you were capable of were frightened squeaks and strangled whimpering as you clung to him tight as a barnacle to a rock. “C’mon, baby, jus’ gotta breathe. We got ten more min- DAMNIT!” He coughed hard as another rough quaking slammed his back against the bedpost, knocking the wind out of him. “Fuck, don’t le’ggo, sweetheart.”  
  
The dresser from across the room came sailing toward the both of you, but he stopped it by kicking out his legs just in time. “GODDAMNIT I HATE THIS FUCKIN” SHIP!” He shouted at the top of his lungs as the next roll sent the dresser slamming back into the opposite wall once more. “Swear on mah life, I’ma bolt every single piece’a fuckin’ furniture on th’ next one to the muthafuckin’ floor!”

It seemed to go on forever, but eventually… _ finally _ the ship gave one last hearty quiver before righting itself and settling down. You both stayed huddled on the floor in the corner for a couple more minutes. The silence was heaven, it felt as if you’d gone through all nine circles of hell in one trip, but you were alive and the ship had miraculously held itself together. “Damn, I hope it ain’t tha’ fuckin’ bad on our way back.”

“Yondu?” You swallowed hard to try to get the taste of stomach acid out of your mouth.

“Yeah?”

“_Fuck that. _”


	9. The Angriest Blueberry

When the Yautja had implied that their landing pad was ‘makeshift’, they’d been grossly exaggerating… it was practically nothing more than a haphazard metal tower attached to an embedded concrete docking weight and rail-slide. What was more, they hadn’t bothered to treat the metal to protect it against the tropical clime, which caused the metal to oxidize. 

The noise from the side glides as they scraped against the roughened surface of the slides echoed through the ship to the point of pain. Once the bow had touched its nose to the tower, Yondu went starboard to oversee weighing of the anchors. Without much to do, you followed along behind to watch as heavy, thick chains were threaded through the three anchor rings along both sides of the ship. They were then guided as one through the tower and clipped to the docking weight.

Docking wasn’t usually such a lengthy process, but no one wished to rush given the state of the place. Everyone disembarked from the vessel after they were positive the ship wasn’t in danger of tipping, and took the time to figure out what to do from here.

  
Yondu pointed to a path outlined in black on a portable holomap of the area. He tapped on the area of the landing pad to zoom in and eyed the compass mark in the corner. “Temple should be straight thatta way.” He pointed east by southeast of the tower.

“This here’s a jungle. Yer tellin’ me we gots tah cut our way through th’  _ jungle _ first?!” Kraglin wiped his face wearily with a handkerchief to get the sweat out of his eyes. “Aw well, fuck, guess we jus’ gots tah get out by hackin’-”

Yondu stopped him. “We ain’t ‘llowed tah make an easy trail. Ruins th’ game fer ‘em or somethin’. Gotta be careful tah pick our way through th’ undergrowth fer 5,303 cubits.”

“Tha’s nearly two miles… we ain’t gonna have it easy, Cap’n.” Kraglin tucked his hankie away with a sigh. “‘Specially not in this heat.” He shielded his eyes from the powerful light of the twin suns above and peered into the depths of the jungle. “We ain’t gonna get through it in less’n a day… not wit’ weapons, food’n water, an’ tha’ bitch along fer th’ ride.

“Yep… ‘s gonna prolly be a two or three day trip. Dunno wha’ kinda shit’s lurkin’ round ‘ere, we’ll wanna take it slow.” Yondu snapped the portable map closed and turned back to the crew. “A’ight, all’a ya’s gonna go back tah th’ ship an’ tah pack a change or two’a clothes. Gersh, yeh’ll be handlin’ th’ food an’ water rations. Relian, Sneg, an’ Magellan, you three’s gonna pick up the back, middle, an’ front’a th’ line tah keep an eye out fer trouble.” He divvied up responsibility after responsibility as you all returned to the ship.

Until, that is, he got to you. “I suppose you’ll want me to stay back?” 

“Yer comin’ with, I jus’ gotta figure out what tah do witchya.” He scratched his head for a moment and then stopped Medic Talen. “I think ya’ve been in an’ outta th’ Med Bay often ‘nuff tah qualify as an assistant to the ol’ doc ‘ere.”

“I don’t have a medical license!” You protested as Talen began to place several medical kits into your arms.

Talen looked at Yondu for a beat, and then they both laughed. “Neither do I!” 

“Suspicions confirmed.” You muttered under your breath, but didn’t try to stop him from loading you up with medical supplies to take back outside. 

After several trips, everything necessary was out, and so you made a dash for your room. As Yondu had suggested, you packed two breathable shirts and pants, brought along an extra canteen, a bit of combination sunblock and repellent, and four extra socks. Oh, and two books because you were somewhat incapable of going on any type of lengthy journey without one. For good measure, you slipped a waterproof cover over your Galacom to make sure the condensation wouldn’t affect the delicate inner circuitry.

It took another forty-five minutes before the others were ready, most of which was taken up by figuring how in the heck they were going to haul a half-ton Xenomorph through the jungle. “Wheels’ll get gunked up with grass an’ shit.” Yondu was glaring at the adamantium box right as you bounded up. 

“You could try rolling it.” You suggested. “You know, cut down a bunch of small trees and putting the logs under the box, then rolling it that way. A few of us could hold back brush and such to get her through.”

“Tha’ could work.” Kraglin agreed, looking to Yondu for confirmation. 

“Seems like we ain’t got much other choice.” He shook his head and called over a few of the crew to begin cutting down some thinner logs around the edges of the clearing. “We got all th’ tents an’ cots packed?”

“Yessir.” Kraglin motioned over to the open hatch. “We’s haulin’ ‘em out now. We got enough tah put three in each.”

“Good, good.” He took a gulp from his canteen and capped it. “Should be fine, then. Gonna head out soon as everyone’s got this shit on lockdown.”

There wasn’t a single person that didn’t have a load on their backs. Between Talen and yourself, there were ten medical kits, six rolls of gauze, a bag of surgical supplies, and plenty of sanitizing solution, plus your own supplies. He had a tent strapped to his back as well, which definitely made his job harder, but he was a large man with sturdy shoulders who made the weight seem like nothing.

You… weren’t that strong. Admittedly, you were toned from a mechanic’s labor, but you were by no means athletic nor particularly muscular. Not only that, but your people weren’t made for this type of heat. Only six hours in and your sunblock had been sweated off. Your cheeks were tinged blue by a rapidly worsening sunburn and your hair was so wet with sweat, it looked as though you’d dunked your head under the spray of a shower head. You certainly didn’t smell like you’d had a shower, though, and neither did anyone else.

“HEAVE!” Came the call from behind you. “HO!” Kraglin was directing the ten men hauling the queen’s cage, while three behind would pick up the logs from the back to lay them down in front again. While that was done, several crewmen stood just ahead and held back the bushes, saplings, and other such flora as best they could. “HEAVE!”

You paused for a second to reapply your cream in the shade of a lovely, purple-barked tree and observed the others in the procession. Talen was making idle conversation with Relian, the same as the rest, and you overheard a few making plans for what they’d do with their share of the money.

“I’ma buy me a fuckin’ boat, Duryl!” Meor’s black fur was as soaked as your hair, but his green eyes were as bright as lanterns.

“What th’ fuck ya need a boat fer? Thought you hated water?” Duryl scoffed.

“Yeah, I do, but I’ma dockin’ it up on Contraxia an’ when ladies pass by an’ wonder whose it is, I’ma be there tah show ‘em all ‘round, heheh.” 

“Ya know ya gotta pay fer dockin’ a damn boat, same as a spaceship, right?”

“...can’t ya jus’ let a guy fuckin’ dream, Duryl? Fuckin’ buzzkill, sheesh.”

“Idjit.”

“Fucker.”

“Furball.”

“Ey, tha’s a low blow!” Meor growled and batted his friend in the back of the head.

“Watch it or I’ma declaw ya, see if I won’t!”

You giggled to yourself; goodness, these men were a unique bunch if you’d ever seen one. Their conversation did make you consider what you’d do with the credits. Most of it would go to your parents, but you’d save a little for yourself… maybe a thousand or two. You could buy a bunch of bookshelves for your room and fill them completely! Maybe even get a nice, new dress, some treat foods, and a set of comfy bedclothes.

You were so caught up in your daydreaming, you didn’t hear the soft rustling of grass behind you. Nor did you catch a glimpse of the expression of horror on Relian’s face as  he dashed toward you. No, you were in your own world of naps under fuzzy blankets when a blue wall suddenly smashed into your side and knocked you to the ground. 

“Yondu, what-” You glanced over his shoulder as chaos ensued and gasped at what you saw.

Slathering drool dripped from the jaws of a giant… something. It wasn’t anything close to any creature you’d ever seen. For now, it had abandoned its attack on you and settled its sights on Relian and Talen, who’d drawn their weapons. Blinding yellow shots from plasma bolts hit the creature along its armored hide, and it let out a deafening screech of pain. It slithered around the base of a tree, the fluffy down between the plates of its back now standing on end as it snapped at the men below. Its mandibles were razors glinting in the dappled sunlight as it lunged.

“Stay low.” Yondu ordered before pushing you behind a bit of brambles. He launched himself into the thick of the fight. “Aim fer th’ eyes, damnit!” A round from his laser pistol was refracted back in a fizz of red fire that forced the others to duck to the ground in a panic. 

The ricocheted laser scorched a hole right through the middle of a particularly hefty tree. Its smoldering, splintered trunk gave way and snapped in half over the top of the adamantium cage, subsequently toppling the cage off of the logs and nearly crushing Duryl in the process. “Cap’n, the queen!”

Yondu snarled as he tossed away his laserpistol. His whistle pierced the air to call his arrow into action… and action there was indeed. As you watched, the smokey trail of scarlet death his yaka arrow left behind tied knots in itself. He commanded it this way and that, with each strike of the monster’s mandibles barely missing by centimeters. 

Yet, some instinct within it seemed to tell it that the arrow held no intelligence of its own, and redirected its next snap. Yondu danced out of the way, but not quite in time and the edges of its jaws snipped his side, shearing away a quarter of his duster. Adrenaline must have kept him going even as it swallowed the scrap of leather down as a bird does a worm. A shrill whistle bit through the clamor, and in less than a blink the arrow had threaded through both its eyes like string through a needle. 

The creature reared back, its many legs twitching in the air, but it was not dead. The thing deftly turned and the air was filled with a flurry of stinging hairs. Yondu dropped to his knees clutching his face, as did many others, and then, with its retreat secured, the thing scurried as fast as it could back into the depths of the forest.

Half of them hacking, their faces swollen and eyes weeping, most of the crew dropped to the ground. Medic Talen was luckily spared and wasted no time in yanking off his pack to rummage through it. “Damnit girl, where are ya?” He called out. “I’ll be needin’ th’ pills outta yer pack!”

You scrambled out of the bramble bush and struggled as the thorns ripped at your clothes. “I’m here!” You threw your pack at his feet. “What are we looking for?”

“The green’uns. Kinda glowy lookin’.” He didn’t bother with fancy names, which greatly relieved you. “Gimme a few’a th’ teensy yella tablets, too.” He pulled a mortar and pestle out to get to grinding the tiny pills to dust. After dribbling enough water into it to make a paste, he shoved the medicine into your hands. “Goes on any exposed skin, now git.”

“But.. but what about the pills?”

“Wha’? Oh… those’re mah dietary supplements.” He popped one into his mouth and swallowed it down. “Wife said I gotta lose some weight or I ain’t gettin’ none when I get back home.” You gawked at him for a moment before he scowled. “Go on, scat!”

You chose to tend to Yondu first since he’d gotten the worst of the hairs scattered all over him; his face was all puffed up like a ripe, angry-eyed blueberry. The paste helped with the reaction, but it didn’t soothe his fury at all. He had his gaze trained on the trail of blood it had left behind and barely acknowledged you at all. Perhaps it was stupid to be hurt over that, but you were still quick to move along to tend the rest.

Within half an hour, everyone had recovered. The cage was loaded back on the line of logs, Yondu’s side had been wrapped up, and a quick headcount showed the entire crew was accounted for. Yondu’s temper had not yet cooled by this time, in fact it seemed to be simmering under the evening suns. He kept fingering his ragged duster with a scowl and whirled on you the moment you tried suggesting it could be fixed.

  
“THA’ AIN’T TH’ DAMN PROBLEM!” 

“Oh… okay… I’m-”

He snarled and gestured toward the trees. “IT ATE THE DAMN KEY!”

Kraglin dropped the rope he’d picked up. “What?!”

“YA HEARD ME!” He snatched up a fist-sized rock and hurled it into the jungle with a roar. “SLURPED IT UP LIKE A FUCKIN’ NOODLE!”

“Yer not serious.” 

“I’M DEAD SERIOUS!” He raked his nails across his head. The fire in his eyes alone could’ve set asbestos aflame. 

The entire crew halted at once, going silent as the grave, as Kraglin processed that information. He pulled his blaster from its holster and started toward the gorey trail. “We’ll find it, then.” But Yondu snagged the back of his coat and yanked him away.

“No.” He jabbed a finger into Kraglin’s chest. “No, if we go off into th’ jungle like tha’, we might as well be slittin’ our own damn throats. We dunno wha’s out there. We dunno how far it’s gone.”

“Perhaps we can get ahold of the clan again?” You asked meekly. “They could send us a replacement.”

“Then we’d look like damn fools!” He snapped back. He dropped Kraglin and stared deep into the wide expanse of jungle ahead. “We gonna hafta figure our way through them damn traps.” After a minute, he took a spyglass from his remaining pocket and aimed it through a gap in the canopy. “‘S gettin’ dark. We oughta stop ‘ere fer th’ night.”

Kraglin caught him by the shoulder before Yondu could storm off.“Cap’n-” 

He wrenched himself free and planted his butt on a nearby boulder. “Go pitch a goddamned tent, Obfonteri.”   



	10. Sinister Silver Sepulcher

The camp was small, barely more than a few tarps strung up on fiberglass poles between the trees, but there wasn’t much need to do anything more than keep out water and the bravest of any tiny critters drawn by the lanterns. Their flames were a dull blade against the horde of shadows fighting to edge in closer, but those small lights somehow managed to keep the dark at bay.

The air was filled by the longing voices of insects, yet also by the feeble attempts by Meor and Duryl to raise everyone’s fallen spirits. They joked, told stories, and sang vulgar songs. Gersh must have been feeling sympathetic to their cause as he ended up passing around a light ration of whiskey. By supper’s end, not many people remained in despair.

You, however, had taken your meal at the edge of the camp. Guilt plagued you; if you’d been paying more attention, possibly Yondu wouldn’t have been forced to knock you out of the way. Maybe it was a stretch, but you felt in some way responsible for the key’s loss. It would’ve been wise to keep your earlier suggestion to yourself as well; you knew his pride wouldn’t have allowed him to call the clan for assistance, especially not after he’d already demanded a higher price.

So you sat alone, here on the barest cusp of the light, with a book in hand. Truth be told, you hadn’t turned a page in fifteen minutes. You’d simply been staring at the letters until they blurred and blended out of comprehension. 

He’d been right to yell at you. You weren’t really any help at all out here; he’d had to make up something for you to do! What were you doing out here, anyhow? You were a _ mechanic _, not a real Ravager, you had no way to actually contribute to this expedition! 

“Th’ hell ya doin’ out here?”

You peered over the top of your book to see Yondu had left the tent he’d pitched. “I wasn’t sure about the sleeping arrangements, so I figured I’d sit down and read until everyone else had decided who they were comfortable sharing with.” 

“Like hell yer sharin’ wit’ anyone else.” He hauled you to your feet. “C’mon, gonna strain yer damn eyes readin’ in th’ dark.” 

He pulled you into the tent and zipped it closed. You were unsure of what to do or what he might want, so you stood there waiting to be addressed. Three cots were squeezed into the space and you spied Kraglin’s bag in the far corner, but said nothing. “Well, go on… put yer stuff down wherever.” 

You obediently tucked your bag under the edge of one of the cots. It was a little brighter in here, but you didn’t bother with pretending to read any longer. You toed off your boots and socks, and then curled up under the thin cover of the cot farthest to the left. 

“_ Now _what’re ya doin’?” He took a seat on the middle cot and stared down at you. “Ya look like a kicked pup. Did ya _ wanna _ stay out in th’ fuckin’ dark wit’ th’ bugs?”

“No… I didn’t… I mean, I didn't want to bother you.”

He leaned forward a little to pull the blanket down. “There, now I can see yer pretty face. Tha’ was th’ only thin’ botherin’ me.”

You perked up a little at that. “You’re not still mad at me, then?”

“Why th’ fuck would I be mad atchya fer? Ain’t done nuthin’.”

That left you quite confused, and so you sat up to better assess what was going on. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d been wrong. “I thought I made you angry earlier… you shouted at me.”

He shook his head. “Wasn’t upset wit’ _ you _, I was mad at th’ situation.” He grimaced. “An’ at tha’ damn overgrown centipede.” He gathered you up, blanket and all, to hoist into his lap as he’d done so many times now. Clearly, he must enjoy having you there for some odd reason. “Look, I didn’t mean tah upsetchya.”

“I know.” You sighed, laying your head on his shoulder. “But I’m not sure if I should’ve come along. There isn’t any real use for me here.” You thought back to dinner, when Gersh had you serving up breadmash to the guys. “I’m stuck doing random errands for whomever doesn’t feel up to doing the job themselves.”

“I’d rather have ya here where I can look after ya.” He growled into your hair. “‘Sides tha’, you got a lot more rattlin’ round in tha’ pretty head’a yers than half’a us. That’ll come in handy when we start runnin’ th’ gauntlet.”

Knowing he valued your intelligence made your heart flutter. “There’s more than one type of intelligence, you know. Book knowledge is all well and good, but you’re streetwise with a fair share of common sense.” When his pride wasn’t getting in the way, anyhow.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your lips. “‘S a wonder I ain’t hyper from all this sugar yer shovin’ down mah throat.”

“Actually, that’s an invalid statement. Sugar doesn’t make anyone hyper. It does provide a short-term boost in energy if you have low blood sugar, but-” 

He cut you off with another kiss, this one being a touch more insistent. He tugged at your bottom lip playfully for a moment, and as soon as you gave in, he fought a passionate game of tongues, teeth, and lips. When he pulled away, he gave you a grin and…

...fluttered his eyelashes against your cheek, and dried up all your budding excitement in one fell swoop. “Whatchya makin’ tha’ face fer? Didn’t I do it right?”

“You… _ ahem _…” You blushed hard. Gods, you didn’t want to have to explain this! It was so embarrassing, and it gave you a squicky feeling inside. “That’s not what lovers do. It’s… well, um… it’s strictly a touch I’d share with my father. I don’t know where you picked it up, but let’s not do that again, please.”

To your surprise, he started to snicker. “He may be yer father-” His eyes sparkled like cut rubies as he lowered his mouth to your heart. “-but he sure as hell ain’t yer daddy.”

“Oh wait, I know that one!” You crowed happily. “That’s a daddy kink!”

“Gods alive, I did _ not _ need tah fuckin’ hear tha’.” You twisted your head around and saw that Kraglin was halfway inside the tent. He appeared vaguely green. He hopped inside, shooting you both looks of disgust. “Can’t ya’ll keep yer hands tah yerselves fer a few days? I gotta sleep, too!”

“Huh… lemme think ‘bout tha’...” Yondu smirked at him, and wiggled his hand under your bottom to give it a squeeze. “Nah.”

“If ya don’t stop, I’ma tell Peter he’s gotta come visit ‘is new stepmomma.”

You let out a yelp as he promptly stood, forcing you to cling on to avoid falling. “Ya wouldn’t dare.”

“I would.” Kraglin knew he had the upper hand. “_ An’ _ I’ll tell ‘im a centipede ate half yer coat… how’d ya put it again? Oh yeah… ‘ _ slurped it up like a fuckin’ noodle’ _.” 

“Ya want an arrow in yer ass, boy?!”

“Why, Cap’n, I didn’t know ya liked me tha’ way.” Kraglin batted his eyelashes girlishly at his friend.

You stroked the back of his neck soothingly. “I know you two love your manly jokes and bluster, but can we please get ready for bed now? We’ll need the rest.”

“It ain’t bluster!” 

But his denial fell on deaf ears. You were tired, and you could tell they were as well. “Bed. Now.” You dropped off onto your bed, pulled the covers up over your head, and pointedly stared at them from your little nest. A few seconds passed by until they finally complied. Yondu scooted his cot closer to yours, almost to the point where the two beds might as well have been one, while Kraglin kicked off his boots and turned his back on both of you.

The next morning came too fast for everyone; no one looked as though they’d had a proper night of sleep. A light breakfast was a meal tablet washed down with water, and it may have filled the stomach, but it did nothing to ease the general mood. The tents were wrapped up, lanterns doused, and those few Ravagers who weren’t asleep on their feet were still grouchily grumbling. 

The jungle was stuffy, the morning mist lingered in the air and weighed down the lungs. Somehow the gravity of the place felt as if it had shifted, and each step was heavier than the previous one. The crush and scratchy scuffs of boots pounded the ground in a geological headache. All was quiet amongst the men, a fearful turn from yesterday’s cheerier chitchatting, as unseen animals cackled and whispered in the trees at the misfortune that had befallen your little ragtag collection of misfits.

By noon, the pair of suns had discovered a way to scorch any sliver of unprotected skin. No one else had thought to bring sunblock, apparently, but you were more than willing to pass around your own… not that it had helped you much. You were now almost as blue in the face as Yondu! 

“Betchya tha’ temple’s gonna be nice an’ cold.” Duryl mumbled from behind you as he slathered his face with a squirt from your bottle.  
  
“Dunno ‘bout tha’. Them Yautja is a tropical race; they don’t mind th’ heat. ‘S probably hot as balls.” Meor snatched the bottle away and dabbed a bit on his poor, peeling nose before tossing it over his shoulder to the next crewman in line.

“Speakin’ of balls…” Duryl shifted uncomfortably. “All six’a mine’re stickin’ tah me leg! Hold mah shit, I gotta readjust.”

Meor elbowed him harshly. “Not in front’a th’ lady, ya animal!”

“I can cover my eyes.” You offered pleasantly.

“See? She said she’d cover her eyes.” Duryl shoved his stuff into Meor’s arms and you dutifully gave him his privacy. There was a soft grunt and then a sigh. “‘Kay, all’s good. No more pinchin’.”

“That’s good!” You smiled at him and turned to Yondu. “I haven’t heard any complaints from you, Captain. Do your balls stick to your leg, too?” 

Weirdly enough, this sent Kraglin into a fit of hysterics. He snorted, tears running out of the corners of his eyes, and dodged every punch Yondu tried to half-heartedly land. “This…” He wheezed. “This’s how I die! Ah, snowflake, yer killin’ me!”

“_ I’ma _kill ya if ya don’t shut yer fuckin’ face.” The Captain threatened, but there was no real malice in his voice. To distract himself from Kraglin’s cackling, he pulled out the holomap that hung on a chain around his neck. “Still headin’ in th’ right direction. Should be able tah see the pyramid if we send someone up tah have a look-see.”

“Snowflake’s th’ lightest.” Kraglin smirked and hefted you up as easily as if you were a sack of potatoes. “Barely a hundred an’ thirty pounds, I’d say.” 

“You want me to climb a tree? I’ve never climbed a tree!”

“Yeh climbed all o’er the damn ship wit’ only a rope tied tah yer belt back on Icyclia.” Yondu reminded you.

“That’s a different matter entirely!” But you could tell they’d already made their minds up, and you weren’t one to fight or argue. “Okay, but I really can’t climb a tree. Maybe if we created some sort of wiiiii-!” 

Kraglin tossed you into the air without much ado. “Grab a branch!” He said as you went sailing upwards. You barely had enough time to process his command, but reflexes immediately took over and you managed to latch onto the lowest hanging branch of a nearby tree. 

You puffed as your heart drummed a heavy tattoo against your ribs. Your hair floofed and frizzed in alarm out worse than it already had done in this ungodly heat, and you glared down at his mischievous face. Xandarians had no right being that strong! “Kraglin!”

“Sorry, snowflake!” He grinned and positioned himself under the tree he’d launched you into. “I’m here if ya fall!” Yondu, too, jogged up to the base of the tree. “We both are! Now, try fer th’ branch jus’ above yer head!”

The royal coloring of the bark stained your hands and scratched up your palms, but your grip was sure. With a grunt, you hauled yourself upwards to sit in the bend of the next tree arm to catch your breath for a second. Looking down would probably cause you to lose your nerve, so you kept your eyes on the prize; the next branch and the next, right up to the point where the branches began to creak threateningly beneath your weight. 

By steadying yourself with a grip on the thinner branches, you were able to stand on your tiptoes to pop your head through the knitting of leaves. A sea of green, blue, and black rolled out in front of your eyes, while swirls of pollen danced upon the breeze. The air up here didn’t stick in your throat, but the direct and vicious glare of the two suns managed to boil away the twin shadows that had haunted your steps down below.

And there, in the distance, their evil glare was rebelliously reflected by a silvery beacon. You blinked, squinted, and leaned forward a little. “We’re definitely going the right way!” You shouted to those below. “I can see it!”

The temple was massive, of proportions that made Xandarian cloudscraper-cities appear short and squat. Despite the heat, you felt a cold shiver run down your back at the sight of its looming figure. The passing of shadows made it shimmer and shine as if it were taking deep, slow breaths. Your chest grew tight and your stomach was cramped up in anxious knots, but you knew that was a silly thought. A building couldn’t be alive.

Could it?

“Ey! Wha’s takin’ so long?!” Yondu’s voice snapped you out of your trance.

“Nothing! I’m coming down!” You reached out to grab the branch beside you for leverage. It let out a heartstopping groan, but it held. With a shimmy, you were able to get back down to the next branch and had your foot out to step down once more when you felt a sudden _ snap _. “EEEAAAHHH!”

“I gotchya, snowflake!”

“Nah, nah, _ I _gotchya!” Kraglin and Yondu dove to save you at the same time, accidentally shoulder-checking and knocking each other to the ground in the process.

“_ My heros. _” You sarcastically drawled where you now hung. You’d fallen in such a way that one of the stubs from the lower branches had caught the back of your sturdy, Kallusian cotton shirt. “Kraglin, you threw me up here. Now. Get. Me. DOWN.” 

He rubbed his head where he’d bashed it against Yondu’s and woozily got to his feet. He leaped up, snagged you off the broken branch, and landed smoothly with an apologetic grin. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s fine, just please don’t make me do that again. I hope you believe me now when I say I’m horrible at climbing.”

Yondu pushed himself off the ground, grinding his teeth and cursing. “Fuckin’ hell! Next time, when I say I got ‘er, damnit… _ you fuckin’ let me get ‘er _.” He rubbed his head where a sea-blue knot was now forming and sighed. “So we’s close, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, it looks like we’ll make it there before dark, too.” You cast a look ahead as your stomach clenched once again at the thought of seeing that unnaturally massive place up close. There was something… off about it. The idea of being inside… it was as if you were willingly letting yourself be swallowed up by one of the great sea monsters that lived in the deep, arctic waters of your homeworld.

“Wha’s wrong?” Kraglin asked as he handed your things back.

“Nothing.” You murmured, gaze still pinned on the lush vegetation. Shadows lurked between each emerald green leaf, and between every violet bough. Every single follicle on your body raised all at once as you imagined that building _ knew _ you were coming. That it _ knew _ and it hungered. “Nothing at all.”

“A’ight…” He frowned and patted your shoulder. “Well, best get a move on.”

The next seven hours of the journey passed without incident, thankfully. You were even right on the money in guessing the Ravager party would reach the temple before the suns would set, but it wasn’t any type of comfort to see the mirror-shine of that magnificently huge pyramid peeking out from the trees. It was bizarre; the metallic sheen was spotless, as if not even the mud or grass seemed to desire contact with it. It wasn’t made of any Yautjan metal you recognized, nor from any other world for that matter.

“Cap’n, ya want us tah set up camp or…” Kraglin ran a hand through his hair indecisively as he studied the pyramid. He appeared uneasy; his eyes kept nervously flicking between it and Yondu’s face as if he were afraid it would move.

Yondu was staring at his reflection in one of the massive blocks. Unlike a true mirror, his image was distorted. His eyes were blobs of flame, and his body seemed thinner… stretched unnaturally to ripple and waver whenever he moved. “We’ll bunk down fer th’ night.” 

Kraglin tore his eyes away from the eerie sight of the shuddering figure glaring back at him. He pressed his hand against a shining, obvious keyhole cut seamlessly into one of the blocks. “Gonna hafta find a way in t’morra, I guess.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Yondu pulled you tighter against his side. “Fer now, though, let’s jus’ have dinner an’ a beer.”

“Amen tah tha’, Cap’n.”


	11. The Spitting Image

“Did _ you _ figure it out yet?” Kraglin came to sit beside you with two bowls of spiced broth and a package of spacetack crackers in hand.  
  
You sighed and hung your head. Yondu had put the entire crew to work on circling the structure in efforts to work out the puzzle-locked entrance. “No.” You put a hand to the metal. “And it’s irritating me!”

“I can’t even begin tah wrap mah head ‘round it.” He shrugged as he gazed at his reflection. “Ain’t never seen no metal like this ‘fore, neither.” He put his hand up next to yours. “‘S shiny, but… looks dark, too. Ya know, when yer lookin’ at it from an angle.”

“Yes, I know.” You shook your head. “It’s metallic, but polished as a mirror would be. The only thing I can think of is that one of these blocks must be able to move or shift in some way. Or maybe we’d have to wait until a certain time of day?”

“I don’t like th’ looks’a it.” He scowled suspiciously. “Ain’t natural. Look here.” He tapped his fingernail against the block. “Looks weird. Like ‘m tryna reach out tah a fucked up clone'a me, but I ain't quite able tah reach 'im." His reflection shared his scowl, but there was something washed out about it… as if it were living in a shadow of reality. "An’ the color shifts, too.”

“A space…” You mumbled and placed your own finger up close beside his. There was indeed a space between Kraglin and his reflection’s fingernails. Yours, too, had a noticeable gap.

That was when something clicked and you let out a small gasp. “Kraglin, go grab me a mirror! I need to check this!”

“Where th’ hell am I gonna find a mirror?”

“I don’t know, ask around!” 

He came back moments later with a compact mirror. “Borrowed it off’a Relian.’S ‘is shavin’ mirror.” He explained as he handed it over. “What’re ya gonna do?”

You held the true mirror as close to the block as you could and frowned as you checked the tint. “The block’s reflection is darker than this mirror.” You immediately got to your feet. “Kraglin, this isn’t metal. Go get Yondu.”

“Why, wha’ is it?”

You smiled at your reflection and snapped the compact closed. “It’s our way in.”

Kraglin nearly stumbled over his own feet in his haste to obey, and when he returned with the Captain, they were both beaming with pride. “Tha’s mah girl!” Yondu flung an arm around your shoulder. “Told ya you was smart.”

“It wasn’t entirely me.” You stepped back from the pyramid’s base. “Kraglin helped a lot. He’s the one that brought it to my attention.” 

“Aw, nahhh.” Kraglin waved away the praise.  
  
“You did, too!” 

“Well, regardless’a who thunk it up, tell me what we gotta do.”

“The blocks aren’t metal like we thought they were. They’re acrylic mirrors.” You popped the compact back open so he could compare the two. “Except, the tint is off. They’re not truly mirrors, either!” Elation flooded through you; it had only taken four or so hours to figure out the secret! You’d feared it would take _ days _… or that the solution would involve math. You were absolutely trash with numbers. 

“They’re _ two-way _ mirrors! This entire place is made out of a bunch of them! I’ll bet the inside is completely hollow and pitch-black… it would have to be to keep the integrity of the puzzle intact. So, at least I can tell you there probably won’t be any light-based traps inside… or lighting in general.”

“That’ll also mean we’ll need tah lug around a bunch’a lights.” Yondu shook his head. “Good work, both’a ya’s.” He picked up a rock and smirked. “Always wanted tah do this.” He slung it with all his might at a random block. The impact snapped a hole right through the middle, with a few spiderwebbed cracks that extended out from the damage. “Well, whatchya’ll waitin’ fer?!” 

“Um… something better than a rock to break the mirror, maybe?” You giggled and slid a wrench from your pocket to start hacking open an entrance.

“Rocks is good, too.” He muttered, and picked up another stone to throw at the block next to yours. “Kraglin! Get th’ boys tah haul th’ bitch a li’l closer… an’ get a few’a th’ others tah help us here. Gonna have tah make it big ‘nuff tah haul ‘er through.”

“Yes, Cap’n!”

Four blocks long by five blocks high, that was how many were needed to be knocked away in order to make room for the cage and its temporary rollers to be pulled through, but the crew had yet to take a single step inside. It was a vast and dim space, but seemingly empty, though no one trusted that to be the case. “Wha’ should we do from ‘ere?”

“No fuckin’ clue.” Yondu swiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. “‘Cept maybe we send someone in… someone small… quick…”  
  
Both of them looked at you. “Oh, come on! Why am I always the one?” 

You were given a lantern to guide you around, and one of the smallest laserpistols they possessed to protect yourself. It didn’t appear to be necessary; the whole place was completely empty aside from the support beams that held the upper mirrors in place. You didn’t have to go far to see any of that, but simply took one or two tiny steps away from the wall of mirrors. 

Something did eventually catch your eye; it was butted up along the other side of the mirror block that held the keyhole and molded to form around it in a black chute that doubtlessly went to the nesting room. What they were likely meant to do was open up the mirror square with the key and shove the cage down the chute. You grinned excitedly and ran toward the opening. “Guys, I know how we can-”

And that was the precise moment the floor decided to drop out from beneath you. You considered screaming for a moment as you rapidly descended, but realized there was no point in that. Instead, you demanded an answer from the world above as you shook your fist in vain at the sky. “Why is it always meeeee?!”

Instead of dying in a gravity-smushed heap of bones and blood as you’d expected, you were safely caught in a net far below the opening of the pit. From high above, you heard alarmed voices calling down to you. “Snowflake?! BABY?! ARE YA ALRIGHT?!

You struggled to roll over, but doing so was like trying to change sleeping positions in a hammock. “YES, I’M FINE!” After several more minutes of wriggling, you got yourself into an upright position and held the lantern up to try to get a better view of your situation. All you were able to make out was more netting. Most of the floor beneath the pyramid must have been a trap door, which led to this steep fall. “THERE WAS A NET! I CAN’T SEE MUCH, BUT I THINK IT STRETCHES OUT UNDERNEATH THE ENTIRE FLOOR!” 

“‘KAY, WE’RE GONNA SEE IF WE GOT ‘NUFF ROPE TAH HAUL YA OUT!” 

You waited for a while down there in the dark, growing increasingly worried as time passed. It must have been nearly an hour before you heard something back. It didn’t sound as if people were working together to get you out at all… no… it sounded more like panicked shouting and… “YONDU?!  
  
His voice echoed through the pyramid, but he was far away from the edge, so it was hard to hear what he had to say… until you heard a familiar yell of alarm and a body came hurtling toward the net. “Kraglin?!” 

His landing shook the net hard enough to send you up a few inches into the air, but you both able to crawl close to each other in the dark. “‘S tha’ thin’ from before!”  
  
A sticky drop of liquid hit the back of your hand. “You’re bleeding!”

“Jus’ a cut on th’ cheek, I promise.” He pulled you close. “Tha’ sonuva bitch centipede thin’ came an’ attacked th’ camp! Brought some friends wit’ ‘im, too.” He winced as he heard several rounds echoing through the pyramid above and the crashing sound of glass being crushed. “Cap’n threw me down ‘ere… said I’d be safer.”

The chaos above continued for a torturously long time until Yondu’s voice rang out again in a sharp, authoritarian tone. “RETREAT! GET IN TH’ HOLE!” He must’ve been right at the edge, because you could hear him much more clearly this time.

From above, clumps of dirt showered down the sides of the open pit, and a great number of people let out terrified hollers as they plummeted down, only to be caught in the net as well. “Where’s Yondu?!” 

Talen wrangled himself onto his knees. “Still up there fightin’ tha’ horde’a fuckin’ bugs! He’s tryna make an openin’ fer th’ rest’a us tah jump ‘fore he goes himself.” Worry was etched into every line of his face. 

“Kraglin, oh gods,.. He could be killed!” You felt so helpless; stuck like a fly in a web while one of the best men you’d ever known was possibly making his last stand. 

The fighting raged onward, at times sprinkles of mirror shards down on you and the rest of the crew. Kraglin had kept count of everyone, and now all but three remained above ground -Duryl, Meor, and Yondu. Fear tore out your heart and left you limp as a dead fish in Kraglin’s arms. He did his best to console you, but with every minute that passed, you were growing more sure of Yondu’s imminent demise. “He’s been through worse, trust me. Survived out in space fer a whole eighty seconds… tha’s a _ record _. He’s too damn ornery tah die…” 

An explosion rocked the ground in a cascade of soil, slabs of mirror, and metal, and set your ears to ringing. For a moment, you were struck completely deaf and blind. In the time it took for the dust in the air to clear and your hearing to return, you were already mourning the loss of a barely blossomed love. No one could have survived that…

“Muther’a all fucks, Meor! GET YER DAMNED CLAWS OUTTA MAH LEG!”

“Oh… oh…” You clapped your hand to your mouth, nearly sobbing in relief as a familiar, scarlet glow lowered Yondu, Duryl, and Meor into the safety of the net. “Thank the gods… YONDU!” You picked your way across the netting to fling yourself at him. “Don’t you DARE do something like that again! I thought I’d lost you!” You shook uncontrollably, unable to say anything else other than his name on repeat.

“Wha’ was tha’ explosion?!” Kraglin exclaimed.

“Used some’a Talen’s peroxide concentrate stores tah set off the arc-heating wire of a busted laserpistol.” Yondu smirked. “Th’ bugs, th’ ones what didn’t die anyways, all ran off.” He petted your hair soothingly while he explained.

“‘Kay, so you can jus’ fly us back out a few at a time once we’re sure everythin’ is settled down, right?”

Yondu was about to reply when he was cut off by the scream of tearing metal. A thunderous roar accompanied that, and what little light that had been trickling down from was now shut off. “Tha’... would prolly be th’ pyramid’s internal structure collapsin’.” He gritted his teeth and growled. “This day jus’ keeps gettin’ better, don’t it? Heh, guess that plan is out th’ fuckin’ window.”

“Cap’n…” Kraglin swallowed harshly. “I think there’s somethin’ ya oughta know.”

Yondu blinked. “Well, spit it out. Can’t get much worse, can it?” 

“One’a them bugs kicked th’ queen’s cage through tha’ keyhole block. I ain’t got no clue where it’s at. Could be buried fer all I know. We’s lost ‘er. The mission’s shot.”

Terror shot up and down your spine, and you leaped at Kraglin. “Are you sure it kicked it through the keyhole mirror block?! ARE YOU SURE?!”

“Yeah, saw it wit’ mah own two eyes, why?”

You slumped hopelessly back into Yondu’s arms. “It must’ve gone down the chute… straight into the nesting chamber.”

Yondu’s muscles locked behind you as he muddled through what you were getting at. “Tha’ box is set tah open th’ moment she hits th’ bottom’a that chute.” He said through gritted teeth. “There’s food down there… an’ them Yautja made sure she’d have plenty of ‘nestin’ material’... live animals, more than likely.”  
  
“A queen can begin laying as soon as she’s eaten enough food to form a new ovipositor.” You stated glumly.  
  
“Oh shit…” Duryl gulped.  
  
Meor hissed to himself in the dark. “We’re _ fucked _ .”


	12. The Ice That Burns

“H-hold on now…” Kraglin shook his head. “We got a couple’a hours at least tah find our way out. Even a fuckin’ Xenomorph needs tah have some time tah digest, right?” He inhaled sharply through his nose and let it all out slowly. “‘So, this’s th’ next trap or… it leads tah th’ next’un.”

“The pyramid took us hours.” Yondu narrowed his eyes, but sighed. “But yer right. Ain’t got no other choice… seems like we ain’t been havin’ many options since we started this.”

“Okay, but how do we divest this entire place of all traps in a few hours?” All eyes landed on you expectantly. “No… no, no…  _ no _ . I can’t do all of it by myself! Heck, Kraglin practically handed me the answer up there!” 

“Ya won’t be by yerself.” Yondu stroked your cheek. “Got all’a us behind ya. Right boys?”

“If th’ Cap’n thinks yeh can do it, I do, too.” Meor nodded.

“Ya got this.” Duryl agreed. “Cap’n, I think we oughta give th’ lady a li’l Ravager-style encouragement.”

Yondu chuckled. “Well, a’ight then.” He let go, nodded at Kraglin, and both began to slowly beat his fist to his opposite shoulder. Like a metronome, the noise echoed through the tunnel in regular time. Somehow, the hidden evils of the dark recoiled in your mind as, one by one, each of the Ravagers began to follow suit. The whole crew grinned, light glancing off many a metal tooth, until the only sound was that of their salute… their collective heartbeat pumped courage and faith into your own veins. “ ** _Sound the Horns of Freedom! Feed the Legacy Flames! Blood! Sweat! Tears! Eternal!_ ** ”

“ ** _Ravagers!_ ** ” Yondu called.

“ ** _Ho!_ ** ” 

“ ** _Ravagers!_ ** ”

“ ** _Ho!_ ** ”

“ ** _RAVAGERS!_ ** ”

“**_HO!_**"

Though you had no idea what this meant yet, it was plain to see it was considered an honor. It kindled something in your blood, a fire you hadn’t known resided within, and those flames flickered as they burned away any doubt in your heart. This was where you belonged. These were the people you belonged not only with, but  _ to _ . Yondu was right, oh it seemed like ages ago, you weren’t merely a mechanic.

You were Ravager, created to blaze, flare, and smolder. You were a wildfire, a soul as bright as the stars, and to the stars you and your brethren belonged. Ashes to ashes, stardust to stardust… you were the ice that burned.

There might have been an errant tear in your eye, but that didn’t have a place here. As the last of the echoing cheers faded, a distant tolling caught your ear. The din of their voices now resounded, not within the earth, but upon metal. It was a distinctly tinny sound that had you jerking in that direction. “Guys, this way!” You pointed directly over Yondu’s shoulder. “I can hear something… it sounds like metal… a shaft, maybe?” 

“There ya go, snowflake!” Yondu laughed triumphantly. “C’mon boys!”

Climbing along the netting was hard, especially as you got near the wall where it had been anchored to the pit. When you lifted your lantern to see, you found the glow illuminated the entrances of not one… not two… but  _ three _ different hallways spaced only a couple of feet apart from each other -another puzzle. “Oh shoot.”

“Which one do we take?” Relian called out from his spot in the back.

Yondu groaned loudly. “Tha’s wha’ she’s tryin’ tah figure out, ya wingnut!”

There was seemingly nothing that told the hallways apart. They were perfectly identical in all ways. It was almost as if explicit care had been taken not to give them identifying imperfections. “Judging from the fact that they’re utterly indistinct from one another… I would say that it wouldn’t be a bad guess that one is correct, while the other two are incorrect. Obviously, they were trying to make sure one had no clues which one might be right. I have no idea what the consequences might be for choosing the incorrect path, but… definitely not good.” 

Determination continued to surge through you; it wouldn’t allow you to be disheartened by this new obstacle. “Somebody, give me a glove… or a pen… or something.” 

“I got a rock!” Relian stated happily and lifted his rock high for you to see.

Yondu looked at him in complete disbelief. “Why th’ fuck would ya hang on to a fuckin’ rock?!”

Relian shrugged. “Thought it’d be useful. Rocks is useful. When all else fails, use a rock.” He earned himself a sympathetic pat on the back from Kraglin. “What? I’S RIGHT, WEREN’T I?!”

“Um… okay, that’ll work.” You suppressed a giggle and caught the rock as it was tossed. You drew back and lobbed it a few feet inside the middle hallway. You waited a few seconds. “Huh, I guess it’s this-” 

A guillotine blade slammed down on the rock, slicing cleanly in two while you gaped at it. “-one… or not! But at least we’ve figured out a way to test them. Relian, do you have another rock?”

“Sorry, nope.”

Kraglin checked his pockets, as did many of the others, but they couldn’t come up with anything. Then, in the orange glow, you saw him pick up a single shard from one of the acrylic mirrors. It had been much too large to fit through the spaces in the net. “Would this work?”

“About as well as anything else, yes. Thank you.” You easily nabbed the sliver of faux glass out of the air and threw it into the left hallway. Again, nothing happened… until it did. A hidden panel pulled away and let off a laser shot, which was reflected off of the offending shard. The laser bolt pinged and rattled as it bounced off of the smooth, metal walls until it came flying out straight at your head. Luckily, you ducked just in time.

“‘Kay, guess tha’ means it’s th’ right hallway.”

“By process of elimination, yes.” You partially climbed down the net to allow Yondu to go first, but he shook his head.

“Fer now, yer leadin’.”

“But you’re the Captain-”

"Yeah, an’ a Captain who can’t see when he needs tah hand o’er th’ reins ain’t much’a leader, is he?” He jerked his chin up toward the hallway, and then smirked. “‘Sides… gives me a good view.”

“You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

“Heh, damn right I do.” He winked saucily back.

You hopped up, using the edge of the hallway as leverage, and stood in the open hallway. A few tentative steps later, and nothing disastrous had befallen you. “Everything looks safe, you all can come on up.” 

Once they’d heeded the order and everyone was packed inside, you moved on from there. It was a… surprisingly normal walk. It was nearly as unassuming as a jaunt through the bowels of the  _ Hisponiola _ , albeit with a great deal less rust, yet it still strangely reeked of iron. The ease of passage ate your nerves to shreds, and it wasn’t lost on the crew, either. The tunnel went on and on, but still no sign of any further danger. 

Eventually, it turned your group out into a small room. The walls were bare stone, but a good number of raised, stone and steel boxes were laid out on an alter. “My mother told me about these.” You murmured. “The Yautja give their Young Bloods weapons to fight the  _ kiande amedha _ ... Xenomorphs, but not usually directly. They’re not allowed to use plasmacasters during a blooding, either. We’ll probably find a few other useful things, though, since it’s hard to find weapons that can actually hurt one of those disgusting creatures.” But something didn’t feel right. 

“Why ain’t we movin’?!” Someone called from the back, but they were silenced by a low growl from Yondu and a glare from Kraglin.

“It’s too easy.” You furrowed your brow, searching for anything that could give away any sign… a suspicious irregularity in the stone… an out-of-place tile on the floor… but nothing. Nothing but the stench of blood.

“‘S awful dusty in here.” Kraglin commented offhandedly.

You turned to him, unsure if you’d heard correctly. “What did you say?”

“Said it’s pretty dusty… ya know… considerin’ they only recently set all of this up.” He shifted shyly under your gaze. “Why?”

You sniffed the air again. That iron smell that had no right being there with no rust in sight still hung in the air, and it was a dead give-away. Oh, you understood what this was now. You narrowed your eyes, unsheathed your tiny knife and began to cut a large piece from your shirt. “Everyone, tie something around your mouths and noses. There’s hematite dust on the floor. If you get that in your lungs… we don’t have the supplies to save you in time.” It wouldn’t be complete protection, but it would be good enough. “Try to hold your breath as much as possible as well. This isn’t guaranteed protection.”

“You heard th’ lady!” Yondu knotted a handkerchief around the lower half of his face. The crew was quick to copy him. “Let’s get them weapons.”

“Careful.” You warned as you took a step inside. “There might be more to watch out for and I really can’t tell much in the dark like this.” Despite the lantern’s valiant flame, it didn’t do much to illuminate every corner. Heck, it probably would’ve been difficult even in the brightest daylight to spot something a Predator wished to keep hidden. 

You searched the edges of each box, but found that all three were free of any visible springs, wires, or anything remotely deadly. You tried to lift the slab off, but it was half a foot thick and wide as your forearm. “Yondu, Kraglin, can you help me with this? Everyone else, you do the same! We’ll need all three.”

Together, you all heaved on the respective stone blocks at once and managed to shove them to the floor. The single moment of victory was short-lived, however, because there came a sudden shout from the other side of the room. “FIRE!”

Sparks caused by the sliding of the stone lids had caught the hematite dust on fire. It went up with a soft  _ whoomf _ and was creeping slowly across the walls, floor, and over surfaces like a spider made of flames. The moment the flames had reached the hallway, a rock wall dropped to cut off the only obvious exit. 

“Whadda we do?!” Gersh cried out in alarm as he unsuccessfully attempted to stomp out the growing fire. 

“Snowflake, I don’t feel like bein’ blue barbeque.” Yondu urged.

“Um… um…” You stammered. “I… I don’t know… I don’t…”

“Th’ boxes! Check the weapon boxes fer false bottoms!” Kraglin shouted at the crew. He grabbed what looked like a mechanized spear or staff out of the box and began busting at the bottom. Almost immediately, the crew went from beating at the floor to beating at the insides of the boxes. “They’s wood. It’s just wood! We can break through! Keep at it, boys!”

Under their combined power, the thin layer of wood at the bottom of each box gave way to an empty void, but no one gave another thought as the air was devoured. The real danger here wasn’t being burnt alive… it was suffocating to death. “Jump!” Yondu screamed to the others, before shoving you head-first into the abyss.

You tumbled for half a second, but felt your body slam into a slide with enough force to knock the wind from your lungs. You wheezed and coughed, all the while slipping head-first on your back in wild swirls and sweeps. It would’ve been fun, you thought, if it  _ weren’t absolutely terrifying _ . You hit bumps and swerves, and you thought you heard familiar voices screaming behind and all around you. At one point, you were sure you watched Kraglin go flying overhead, only to land on the start of yet another slide that corkscrewed off into the darkness.

You could see an end to your own slide coming up fast, but could do nothing to stop it. When your body lifted off, you attempted to twist in the air, but only ended up doing a graceless turn. Regardless of your lack of acrobatic poise, this put you at an angle at which you could at least  _ see _ the ground as it came up to meet you. This wasn’t how you’d expected to die-

_ FWOOP! _

Instead of hard, packed earth, you’d landed on a… bubble? Dazed, winded, and more than a little confused, you stared at the miracle that had saved you from certain doom. It was soft, rubber, air-filled sack that depressed with every movement you made. “What the-

“FUCK!” Yondu came crashing down beside you on another, similar balloon-esque air cushion. He bounced once, flailed in a helpless flip, and landed on his butt at the edge of the slide. He stared up at you, stunned into silence. Behind him, the rest of the crew gradually landed alongside you both. Kraglin was the last to make an appearance, and nearly bowled Yondu over in an accidental somersault that ended at your feet.   
  
You let out a nervous chuckle and held out a hand to help him up. “I’ll bet the Yautja could make an absolute killing in the amusement park business.”

Kraglin hung onto you for support, as he was still rather weak at the knees. “Emphasis on  _ killing _ .”


	13. Return of the Poppins

“Where’re we now?” Kraglin asked no one in particular as he dusted himself off. “Must be pretty damn deep.”

“Think we’s close tah th’ nestin’ chamber yet, doll?” Yondu took a lighter from somewhere on his person and held it out in front of him. It barely lit more than his face and gave no real indication of this new room's size. “Felt like we slid down pretty far…”

“I’m not sure.” You thought for a moment. “I’d assume that they wouldn’t put anything lower than the nesting chamber. They’d want the queen as far underground as possible to give every chance for their Young Bloods to make at least one or two kills and then leave.” You scratched your head. “If you want a precise location, I’d say you’d want to use a Coriolis force calculator to find the latitude and get our magnetic north from the holomap to find out our depth, but we don’t have one and I am awful with formulas or equations.”

“As bad as ya are at climbin’?” Kraglin smirked.

You swatted at him, but purposefully missed. “Almost.” You admitted with a sigh. “The best thing is to try to keep pressing on. We’re only dead if we linger.” 

This new area was massive, and only open at the areas that emptied out from the trio of slides. An odd thing occurred to you at that moment; three had been repeated numerous times throughout this place. It was an unimportant realization, a wandering thought possibly caused by the traumatizing urgency of this dilemma, but you tucked it into the back of your mind.  
  
“Ey, Cap’n! I found somethin’!” Announced Beyor, who was a stout Arcturan typically called upon to jam the deep-space radar systems used by intergalactic authorities. He aimed a tiny penlight mounted on a thick, golden ring up at one of the walls. There, around head-height, was a thin, silver disk embedded into the surrounding stone.

“Must be th’ next puzzle.” Yondu approached to better study the object. “‘S got markings all o’er it.” He waved you on over to have a look as well. 

The lines and curves continued out into the stone in which it was mounted, and, upon closer inspection, you found it wasn’t in one piece. The disc was made of three small disks, each etched in elaborate detail, but… this didn’t make sense. Yautja weren’t known for ornate designs, especially ones as abstract as the type that covered the disk. “It has to be. Yautja hardly ever own or add anything unless it has a purpose. They’re utilitarian nearly to a fault. The only decorations they ever bother with are their hunting trophies.”

“Question is… wha’s th’ solution tah it?” Kraglin peered over your shoulder with a troubled frown. “Tha’ looks like jus’ a bunch’a fancy squiggles tah me.” He poked the disk and leaped back a little when it moved beneath his finger. “GODS ALMIGHTY!”

“It’s heat sensitive!” You enveloped him in a tight hug. “You’re being an incredible help, I hope you know.”

You tapped at the disc with your fingertips, and each touch caused the various circles within to rotate in clockwise or counterclockwise. The various squiggles and squirmy lines wormed their way across the disc with no apparent pattern. You stood there for several long minutes, poking, prodding, and huffing in frustration as the solution continued to elude you.

The men, who’d been standing at attention for the first moments, gradually grew bored and took seats on the floor. Kraglin had started some sort of card game, while Yondu knelt by himself playing idly with his holomap. They would all randomly glance your way whenever you let out a sigh or grumbled something, but otherwise occupied themselves. In spite of how they pretended to be unconcerned, no one would have said the atmosphere was at all carefree. 

After letting a particularly loud, pseudo-curse rip, Yondu put aside his holomap projector and opened his arms. “Give it a rest fer a minute, will ya? Ain’t doin’ yerself any favors by gettin’ mad at it.”

“I know… but…” You heaved another sigh and settled into his lap for a good pout. “Time isn’t on our side.”

“Time’s an illusion anyway.” He grabbed his holomap again, and balanced it between his knees. He’d been randomly scrolling through galaxies, nebulas, and various places all over the universe as a way to entertain himself. “See ‘ere? Tha’ li’l speck is Terra.”

“The place with the nice music?”

He gave you a genuine smile and tapped on the green and blue marble to zoom in. “Yep. Maybe we can visit there sometime… ‘s one’a th’ few places I ain’t got a bounty on mah head.”

“You talk about Terrans as if they have their head stuck in the sand.”

“They do, kinda. Most ain’t really interested in anythin’ tha’s goin’ on in th’ universe ‘less it directly affects ‘em. They’s kinda self-centered tha’ way.”

Continents of various shapes dotted the surface below the white gloss of Terran clouds. “It’s lovely.” You reached out as if to touch it. “No wonder they sing all the time. If Icyclia looked like that, we’d constantly be singing, too.”

“Too bad they’s killin’ it.” 

“What?!” 

“Ah...nuthin’.” He zoomed out again and brought up the internal planetary database to find another planet to gawk at. “Wanna see a space-side view’a Xandar, hunny?” He gestured to the list of planets, but you weren’t interested.

In the corner of the map, there always resided a universal compass. It would have been programmed to always point back in the direction of the largest local star in order to properly be properly oriented within an individual galaxy. Normally, it would’ve been about the size of your thumbnail, but when he’d zoomed out to take a look at the database, it had exploded to take up the majority of the left side of the screen. 

Without a word, you popped up and jogged back toward the disc. “Yondu, you’re a genius!”

“‘Course I am!” He puffed out his chest, and then lowered his voice. “Uh… wha’d I do tah be a genius again? Do so many genius thin’s I can’t remember ‘em all. ‘S th’ saddest thin’ ‘bout bein’ a prodigy, ya know… I lose all them smart-icle thoughts if I don’t write ‘em down.”

“A tragedy to be sure.” You giggled and kissed his nose before returning to your work on the disc. “You practically dropped the answer in my lap… or, rather, it was in _ your _ lap.” As you coaxed each ring into just the right spot, you grinned. “It isn’t a picture or decoration… _ it’s a map _.”

“A map’a what?”

“This place!” You poked the smallest, inner circle another couple of times. “This tiny triangle right here is… _ was _… supposed to be the pyramid up top. Then over here below that is a bunch of little x’s… that’s probably the net… oh, and these little squiggles are the slides… wow, those loop around under the temple all over the place… not surprised at all, though.” You hummed to yourself as the disc came alive under your touch. Your finger hovered over the final ring. “From the looks of things, once I open this door… we’ll be in the nesting chamber.” You followed the pattern of grooves. “If we get through there, we can climb to the surface up the nesting chute. Once we’re topside, we can head out to the ship and be home-free.”

“Damn, thank the fuckin’ gods.” Yondu kicked the wall with a scowl. “I can’t wait tah lift off this hell-rock.”

“Cap’n, wha’ ‘bout th’ Yautja? They won’t take none too kindly tah their temple bein’ destroyed.”

“I don’t give half a shit, Kraglin. Long as we get our asses outta here, I swear I don’t.” 

“Once I put this last ring in order… that’s it.” You interrupted. A grave silence followed your words. “The queen is on the other side of this wall. I don’t know, but she might’ve had time to cook up a small brood. Xenomorphs grow fast, usually.”

Kraglin brandished the combistick he’d taken from the weapon box. “If I get one’a them li’l shits planted in mah chest… I want ya’ll tah promise tah put me outta mah misery.”

“Same fer me.” Duryl’s face hardened as he clutched the speargun he’d claimed. 

“An’ me.” Meor chimed in. “I don’t wanna have mah DNA snipped by some drooling cacknabbler.” The other Ravagers murmured similar sentiments. 

“We’s all rarin’ tah go, snowflake.” Yondu’s arrow now hovered at the ready near his ear.

You nodded, allowing your fingertip to fall upon the ring, and hopping back when the stone before you began to groan. It pulled away from itself to reveal a room splashed in shadow and wet with eldritch, creeping darkness. Every footfall was muffled by a cushion of ebony murk, although the truest terror was found, not in the dark itself, but in the knowing that creatures lurked within it.

The body of Ravagers charged gung-ho into enemy territory, all of them bravely lunging into battle-read positions as motion-sensing lights gradually revealed the horrors of the chamber. For all around them lay carcasses, many of them being those aggressive, two-story tall pederpillars, and yet… 

“She isn’t here.” You looked at both Yondu and Kraglin in dismay. 

“Well… if she ain’t _ here _ …” Kraglin gulped. “ _ Where is she?! _”

“If she’s laid eggs, then she’ll have developed an ovipositor.” A queen with an attached ovipositor was slow and fat. She wouldn’t have an ability to squeeze out of the nesting chamber, she would’ve had to release it, but the familiar sight of a shed abdominal protrusion was nowhere to be seen. 

In one, heart-stopping moment, it all fell into place. “Guys… don’t panic, but…”

“When has anyone ever said not tah panic an’ there be any fuckin’ reason _ not to fuckin’ panic? _” Talen clutched the wrist band of his cocked energy flanchette.

You took a deep breath. “When I get to the count of three… let off everything you have straight into the ceiling. One…” You closed your eyes, curling your finger around the trigger of your laserpistol. “Two…” Your blood rushed in your ears. “THREE!”

A flurry of dust, plasma, laser bolts, and poli-nanovibronic discs rained hell upon a lurking terror. A shriek came from a black, huddled mass that had been hiding above; the queen had been lying in wait like a trapdoor spider to pounce when they least expected it. She hadn’t been ready; she was sluggish from gorging herself for the sake of her eggs. She hissed as her hiding spot was revealed and dashed along the length of the room to avoid the wrath of the Ravagers. Even without drones, she was still a formidable foe.

“Lead her away from the nesting chute!” You yelled out to the others as you dashed in that direction. “I’m gonna do my best to get us up there.”  
  
“‘Ey!” Relian waved his hands at the queen. “O’er ‘ere, ya two-bit, bug-eyed tramp!”  
  
“SHE AIN’T GOT NO EYES!” Meor snarled as he ducked a swing from her razor-edged tail. It whipped above his head, nicking the hairs of his ears and missing the rest of his head by mere millimeters.  
  
“Tha’s ‘cuz the gods wha’ made ‘er knew she was too damn ugly tah survive th’ invention’a th’ fuckin’ mirror!” 

“... I think tha’s th’ funniest damn thin’ I e’er heard ya fuckin’ say, Relian.” Talen snuck in a blast of blue energy that missed the crowning crest that flared down the length of the queen’s skeletal back. “GIT BACK ‘ERE YA SHART-TASTIC GLOB’A ASSPHLEM! YER MOMMA WAS A COLOSTOMY BAG!”

“Yondu, give me your arrow!” You fished a spool of omnium filiment cable, the type you often used for various things around the ship, and began wrapping it around the shaft of his arrow. “You can get us out. This is omnium cable leftover from when I was working in the cargo bay, it’ll hold.” You pressed the arrow back into his hands.  
  
“Come an’ git me, bitch!” Kraglin landed a shot to the queen’s durable hide, but it didn’t even crack the shell.  
  
“A’IGHT YA CRAZY FUCKS! GITCHYER ASSES O’ER ‘ERE AN’ HOLD ON!” Yondu tossed the spool to Kraglin, who threw it to Talen, who in turn tossed it toward Meor, and on and on until every single last one of the Ravagers had a few inches of the cable secured around their hands or looped through their belts.

Yondu’s whistle rang loud as a silver bell on a clear, church morning and the arrow was off like a shot. The chain of Ravagers were sucked up through the chute like Mary Poppins through a chimney, but with a lot more style and none of the creosote. The queen tried to claw her way after, but her oviposter crippled her climb and left her inner set of jaws snapping at the soles of their rapidly-ascending feet.

Above, a shimmer of light could be seen. All the oranges and peaches had been laid out for this veritable fruitbowl of a sunset. The juiciest of these fruit salad rays trickled down through the jagged remains of a mirror block and you suddenly realized that the way _ was not clear _. “CLOSE YOUR EYES!” You screamed to all those below only seconds before the yaka arrow smashed through the remaining glass of the pyramid and rocketed everyone into the air.

All was well, the view of the jungle below was an uplifting one, and the entire crew began to cheer… and then the whistling began to fade into a muted splutter and the arrow started to give way under the weight. “YONDU! KEEP WHISTLING!”

“‘M FUCKIN’ TRYIN’ WOMAN! MAH LIPS IS DRY!” He shouted back.  
  
“I’ve got chapstick!” Relian crowed happily.  
  
“WHERE TH’ HELL DIDYA _ EVEN _… “ Talen glowered down at his grinning shipmate. “A’IGHT, GIVE TH’ MAN ‘IS DAMN CHAPSTICK FER FUCKS’ SAKE ‘FORE WE ALL PLUMMET TAH OUR BLOODY AND EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL DEATHS!”

Relian tossed the tiny, life-saving tube up, whereupon it was smoothly snatched up by the Ravager Captain and applied to his chapped lips. He smacked his lips and grimaced at the tube. “Cherry?! I fuckin’ _ hate _ cherry!” He threw it over his shoulder to be lost in the depths of the jungle below. In a renewed effort, he was able to raise them all up just as Relian’s feet began to brush the tops of the trees.

“Ya know, Cap’n…” Kraglin said as they sailed smoothly onward toward the _ Hispaniola _. “This reminds me a li’l of tha’ book I used tah read tah Peter… you know th’ one wit’ th’ glass elevator, an’ all the candy, an’ the guy who was off ‘is nut? Wha’ was ‘is name again? Oh, right!” He grinned widely up at Yondu. “Yer jus’ like Willy Wonka!”

Yondu’s face twisted into an irascible sneer. “_ No _ .” He sniffed haughtily and straightened the collar of his half-eaten duster. “I am an’ shall always be… _ Mary fuckin’ Poppins, ya’ll. _”


	14. Stand Your Ground

You didn’t truly believe they were all safe until the  _ Hispaniola _ had broken away from the Keplar-16b system entirely. The ship was swiftly approaching the hypergate, however, and your nerves were still shot from that daring exploit the _ first  _ time around. You were more prepared this time; you stripped your bed of both its pillows, helped Yondu shove all of his furniture into the bathroom, and built a sort of comfy fort on the floor with him at your back. To say the previous hypergate had made a lasting impression was an understatement, but this time you’d be ready.

A few minutes were spent at the docking pad to transmit forged intergalactic travel documentation, and then… it began. Your breathing quickened as the ship swirled within the vortex like the swish of water around a toilet bowl. 

“Thirty minutes, sweetheart. Only thirty minutes.” He whispered softly. The rough pads of his fingertips massaged the slope of your neck.

“I… I...know.” Your stomach ached, but you did your best to ignore it. 

“Need a distraction?” The momentum of the next jolt sent his shoulder colliding with a pillow and he winced more out of shock than pain. “Fuck, tha’ was a sharp’un.”

“Plea-” You buried your face into him with a yelp as the lights flickered. “ _ Please? _ ”

He cupped one hand over your outward ear, gently pulling you tighter to him. This slightly muffled all sounds of the ship’s distress and let you focus on the soft rumble of his voice as it rumbled within his chest. “Ever thought ‘bout some far off place ya wanted tah go?”

“Yeah… a… a f-few times. Why?”

“Name a planet an’ we’ll go. It’ll be th’ first damn place we land after this business is through.”

“I want to visit Terra.” You told him without hesitation.

“Terra...” He wound a couple of curls around his fingertip. “Any particular reason?”

“You’re always listening to their music. I want to know… I want to  _ understand _ why they sing the way they do.” It wasn’t a mere matter of knowing; anyone in the world could  _ know _ a fact and recite it from memory, but understanding was deeper. It went beyond a definition into something that resonated within the soul. “If you know a person’s song, you know their heart.”

He laughed quietly. “Wha’s  _ mah _ song, then?”

“You…” It hardly took a second for it to come to you. “You’d be a barcarolle love song… it would begin sharp, cold, and high, like a whistle or the twang of an arrow flying true, but grow in warmth with sad adagios and rolling baritone.” Your fingernails bit into the flesh of his shoulder as the  _ Hispaniola _ tilted nearly to a forty-five degree angle.

“Sounds weak tah me.” He frowned down at you, and did his best to ignore the shifting.

“No, it’s sweet… just like you. Gentle and sweet.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you. “Dunno wha’ ya been smokin’, but it must be some quality shit. I’s as far from ‘gentle’ an’ as distant from ‘sweet’ as any one person can be.”

“Say what you want, but I know the truth!” You poked his chest teasingly. As much as he would deny it, he had a good heart under all of that sandpaper-grade grit. Whatever he saw in you, it made him finally get around to showing it in more than a slanted way.

“Yeah, yeah…” He blew into your hair to make it fly in your face. His fingertips ghosted along the outline of your jaw, the edge of your hairline, the ridge of your nose, and even the soft hill of each of your cheeks and lips. He studied you for a while like this and the ever-burning flames in his eyes had died down to the soft, gentle glow of a dying campfire. “Do me a favor?”

Figuring he simply needed a pillow shifted or a corner of the blanket lifted, you acquiesced. “Anything, what do you need?”

He messed with the buckles, straps, and harnesses that held his layers in place until he’d worked them open at the chest and freeing the green ring-patterned cravat he’d worn at his neck for as long as you’d known him. Beneath it all, he’d chosen to wear a simplistic poet’s shirt in that deep maroon you’d come to see as Ravager red. ”Occurred tah me ya ain’t reciprocated th’ kiss I gave ya a few days back.” He unlaced the tie that held it shut and smirked. “I’ll be wantin’ it now.”

“Y-you actually want that?” Your voice wavered, though you tried hard to keep it strong. He’d been so quick to do it before… you hadn’t been certain he’d truly understood the depth of meaning behind it. So, you’d been cautious thus far and uncertain where you stood. You’d only acknowledged there to be something dearer than friendship in your heart for him, but hadn’t dared allow any presumptions into your head.

“Well, tah be  _ perfectly honest _ wit’ ya… what I really could go fer is a li’l romp ‘tween th’ sheets, but-” He was cut off and winded by the ship suddenly pitching forward, which slammed you unintentionally head-first into his chest. He wheezed for a second and then coughed.

“OH GODS, I’M SO SORRY!”

“Fuck… I wanna watch this muthafuckin’ piece’a rust burn in  _ hell _ .” He cleared his throat loudly and moved on from the ill-timed jolt. “As I was sayin’... I wanna do some crazy shit wit’ you. Stuff that’ll make yer pretty eyes roll back. Stuff that’ll make ya go hoarse from screamin’ mah fuckin’ name.”

“You reconsidered the orgies?!” You clasped your hands together, wide-eyed with excitement.   
  
“Better.” He grinned back at you, but tapped his chest right over the scars that spoke of the suffering he’d survived… right over the curling tongues of the Legacy Flames etched into his skin. The tattoo went deeper, you know, it went to a place where the Kree slavemasters hadn’t ever been able to reach; it had marked his heart, his soul, and now he was inviting  _ you _ to do the same. “We can talk ‘bout tha’ later, though… maybe after we’s outta this damn funhouse.” He glared around him for a moment, then returned his focus to you. “Whaddya say, snowflake?”

You couldn’t  _ say _ anything; you were rendered speechless with emotion. Was this happening too fast? Had he felt pressured… but no, Yondu never would’ve done something unless… unless- “Do you?” You voice nothing louder than a harsh whisper above the wailing of the  _ Hispaniola. _

“Yeah…” He ran his thumb over your cheekbone. “Yeah, fer a while now, I think.Got a burnin’ deep in mah chest… feels like the flames swell higher whenever I look atchya.”

“Are you  _ sure _ that isn’t just heartburn?”

He threw back his head, laughter ringing loud and clear through the cabin. “Dunno. Maybe... maybe not.” His touches crawled down your body; face, shoulders, waist, hips… right until both hands were massaging the globes of your ass within his lap. “But I  _ do _ know mah cock’s hard ‘nuff tah cut adamantium right now.”

“We haven’t done anything!”

“Don’t hafta. I look atchya an’ then  _ bam _ … ice-cold shower needed.” His teeth clipped your earlobe. “Think wha’ll happen if ya actually let me  _ do shit _ , eh?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as a few incredibly clear images flooded your mind’s eye. “Right… um… so… now?”

“Yeah, if ya please.” His tone was slightly mocking, but not in an awful way. There was always a softer twinkle in his eye when he set that sharp tongue on you. 

Taking a breath to steel your nerves, you touched your lips to his chest. There wasn’t a single are of his body that wasn’t marred by scars or hardened by callus or both, and the pattern of marks that met your mouth gave you pause. As safe as he made you feel, how could you do the same for him? It could be that, in working your lips from his heart to coax his soul upwards, this was his way of giving you something of his own to fiercely protect. 

You peeked up at him through your eyelashes to find he was sporting a massive, cocky grin. Your own smile was still a bit reserved, but the heat of the moment coerced you into making a more daring move. You gently rubbed your cheeks against both of his and, with the utmost care, brushed your eyelashes over his cheekbones on each side as well. “That is how to do a proper romantic  _ agman-tak _ … a soul kiss.” Your face warmed as you played with the ties of his opened shirt. “You were a little too quick the first time and missed the eyelash flutter, but it’s fine. I-I really wouldn’t… I definitely wouldn’t mind if you tried again.” 

“Still say it’s a lotta steps for one kiss.” He perfectly mimicked the kiss you’d given him, and his hands massaged their way up your back and into your locks. There, he dug his nails into your scalp. “But I can’t go complainin’ when I got a gorgeous woman in mah lap, now can I?” 

For a couple of minutes, the pair of you sat there among the pillows and blankets.”Snowflake, we live a rough life.” He passed a thumb over your cheek absent-mindedly. “Ya know, if it were any other woman, I’da jus’ kept ya at a house in some port or another where I knew ya’d be safe. Could afford tha’ now, too, but you ain’t no other woman. I know I said ya was a Ravager long ‘fore this mission, but ya really showed it back there.” He looked upon you with admiration. “From now on, I’m trustin’ ya tah take care’a yerself. No more separation from th’ crew, no more meals in yer room, an’ Kraglin’ll be teachin’ ya proper self-defense.”

“But if he teaches me how to fight…” You bit your lip to try to be coy. Men liked that, or so you’d heard; it might very well be different with him. “...then I won’t get to see you throw hands on my behalf.”

He smirked. “Tha’s interestin’... snowflake’s got a power kink… heh,  _ noted _ .”

“I’m not exactly a proponent of unnecessary violence, but I’ve always been a fan of the couples’ coliseum fights. There’s something terribly romantic about seeing the person you love win in a clash against someone else. I’m not sure if that qualifies as a ‘kink’ per se, but it is exciting.” You watched his expression change. “I take it that public pre-coitus brawls are also not a common thing in the universe at large?”

“Sounds like Ravager-style courtin’ tah me.” Yondu leaned back into the pillows, and settled his hands on your hips. 

All of the sudden, the ship gave one final heaving wail, there were several simultaneous  _ popfs _ , and everything grew still. “Looks like we’s outta th’ vortex.” Yondu observed. 

You rose to free the furniture from the bathroom. “Has the clan mothership been waiting for us on the other side of the hypergate this entire time?” You inquired after a brief peek out the porthole.

“I ‘spect so.” He came behind you with a frown. “Dunno why th’ fuckers didn’t jus’ do th’ job themselves. Maybe didn’t wanna risk it. Th’ last queen they planted was on Terra a few years back… tha’ didn’t turn out to well from what I hear.”

“They have blooding temples on Terra, too?” 

“They have ‘em all o’er th’ universe as far as I know.” 

You thought on this for a moment. “I wonder if we could see one while we’re there?” You grinned when he made the most awful face. “I was only kidding!”

He huffed. “Don’t think I’d go back even if they paid twice as much next time.” He crooked his finger to motion for you to follow him. “A’ight, let’s go up tah th’ conference closet an’ tell ‘em wha’ happened. Prolly gonna try an’ knock down th’ price fer th’ destruction.” He growled under his breath.   
  
He had only reached for the door scanner when it flew open and Kraglin practically leaped inside the room. The First Mate was pale and he was breathing hard from exertion. “Cap’n! They’re boardin’!”   
  
“What?!” Yondu barked. “WHO TH’ FUCK IS BOARDIN’?!”   
  
“The Yautja, Cap’n!”   
  
“Ya think they know ‘bout th’ temple?” He grabbed Kraglin by the lapels of his jacket, and then tossed him aside. “Get th’ others. Tell ‘em tah make sure we’s ready if there’s a scuffle.” He paused for a moment, and then scowled. “Gimme yer weapons, Krag.”   
  
“But sir-”   
  
Yondu dragged him into the room and practically threw him onto the bed. “They ain’t gonna kill anyone who’s unarmed. They got a code, jus’ like us.” He glanced at you. “You too, snowflake.”   
  
Kraglin immediately began shucking himself free of any weapons he possessed, which amounted to a large pile. You threw your knife into the pile, but shook your head. “I’m going with you to meet them. I don’t think they would kill us. We  _ did _ get the job done, more or less, right?” You grabbed Kraglin’s arm. “They’ll be more upset if we’re obviously afraid.”   
  
“I ain’t afraid!” Yondu snarled back.   
  
You shook your head, but said nothing. He didn’t like being challenged, you understood that. With Kraglin here, he couldn’t admit to it, but you knew. Fear was an expected response when it came to dealing with the Yautja. They were the only race that had gone unconquered across the charted universe. Never had they been defeated in any war, subjugated by any slave master, nor come close to annihilation through any means. They were unbroken, fearless, and unmatched in combat. “We need to face them in their ire; they’ll respect that.”

Yondu’s jaw muscles clenched. “ _ Yer gettin’ in an M-Ship. _ ” His eyes blazed as he spat out the order.

“No, I am not.” You replied calmly, pulling a reluctant Kraglin toward the door and squeezing past your Captain. “All three of us are going to meet with them at the linking pad. They met us all before, they’ll wonder why it’s only the two of you now if I stay back.” You sighed. “I know you’re trying to protect me, but there’s no use if in doing so you offend them further.” 

The muscles beneath his open shirt quivered with rage, and his hands balled into fists, but his gaze was calculating. For all that he was a pirate, he was certainly no fool. He struggled like that for several seconds, but his good sense seemed to win out and he nodded silently. His lips were still twisted into a feral growl, but he said not another word to you.

“Sweetheart, no offense…” Kraglin swallowed hard as he walked behind. “But I’ma be mighty sore atchya if this gets us kilt first.”


	15. No Beast So Fierce

You weren’t doing this without fear. No, in fact, you were inwardly quaking over the idea of facing these people over the botched job. It would have been stupid  _ not _ to fear an angry Yautja, but you knew there to be no other choice. If anything, you could manage to talk them out of killing you, your… whatever Yondu was… and your friends. 

The linking pad was located on the second level of the ship in the middle of one of the largest rooms on the ship apart from the cargo hold. Mostly, it was taken by the linking pad itself, but the area around it had been used as a space for storing extra or damaged supplies that had no other place. Under any other circumstances, it might’ve been comical to think about a group of humongous, muscle-bound Yautja standing round next to a bunch of broken crates, old books, and splintered broom handles. Right now though, you were wondering how insulted they’d be to find themselves surrounded by trash and clutter.

Seven. You counted  _ seven _ Yautja upon entering the room. As was customary whenever they were off-ship, their faces were covered with bio-masks. You were able to recognize the original three who’d brokered the deal with you amongst them; that was a relief. An established positive relationship was on your side in this, at the absolute least. The other four were obviously older, as they’d sprouted an extra, downward-facing set of tusks on their mandibles, as well as facial quills too numerous to count along the edges of their dreadlock-like tendrils.

The Elders kept to the back, while the three younger ones stared meaningfully at you. You raised your head to them, baring your throat in a respectful gesture, and thus began what would be the strangest conversation you never thought you’d have. “They know what happened to the temple.” You translated. “Apparently, they had cameras planted all over the temple and surrounding area.”

“Th’ fuck?! They  _ knew _ wha’ happened an’ they didn’t think tah try tah help us none?”

“That isn’t the Yautja way, Yondu.” You reminded him softly as a few warning clicks from the hunter next to you caught your attention. “But yes, these blooding rituals are highly televised throughout their community.”

“A’ight, so… are they pissed?”

You tilted your head to the side and were careful to watch for any of the typical overtly aggressive signals your mother taught you to look for. “No, surprisingly not.” Kraglin and Yondu were visibly relieved by that. A dreadful weight felt lifted from your shoulders as well, thank the gods. 

“Well, what’re they doin’ linkin’ into th’ ship without so much as a by-yer-fuckin’-leave?”

“They wanted… to... “ Okay, there was a word you weren’t familiar with. You parroted it back to the Yautja who was speaking, presumably a male with splotches of yellow along his shoulders, and hoped he understood your confusion. Fortunately, he nodded and jabbed a finger at the communicator on his wrist.

“ _ Compliment. _ ” 

If your jaw weren’t attached, it would have hit the floor. “They’re here to compliment us.” You were then corrected by the ticking finger of the same hunter. “Wait, no. Not ‘us’.” The hunter pointed at you directly. “Me?” 

The predator nodded curtly and tapped his communicator once again. “ _ Traps. Disarmed. Compliment. _ ” Before you had a chance to react, thick fingers belonging to several Yautja were already brushing through your hair. 

“Yondu, it’s a gesture of respect.” You held up your hand to stop him, less he do something rash in having misinterpreted the touches. A proper Yautja response to this gesture of respect would be to act in kind. You hesitated for a couple of seconds before gently running your fingers along the lengths of their decorated dreadlocks. The pads of your fingers grazed over dread beads made of bone, metal, feathers, and other small trophies braided in for decoration. When they finally pulled away, they were all purring and trilling in acknowledgement. “I think they’re trying to say they respect how well we-” You were given a sharp look by one of the older Yautja and quickly corrected yourself. “- _ I _ did with the traps. I don’t think they’re mad about the temple at all.”

“Well, tha’s good tah know… still don’t ‘xplain why they jus’ hopped onto mah damn ship. Fuckin’  _ rude _ is wha’ tha’ is.” Yondu retorted.

After a short inquiry, you managed to puzzle out everything. The Yautja had been casually observing how the placement of the queen was going, therefore managing to catch the entire adventure of you and your teammates. They’d been mildly impressed with your ability to solve their traps and the ingenuity involved in evading the young queen. According to them, a few had bet against any survivors at all, and none had gambled on more than five of you making it out. Having defied the odds, and given them a few laughs, the Yautja were here to gift Yondu’s crew the acknowledgement they deserve.

“They said our trip is currently considered comedy gold on Yautja-Prime.” You said with a broad smile. “They’ve implied we’ll probably be receiving more jobs from many other clans in the near future.”

Yondu stood a bit straighter and smirked. “Don’t neither of ya go signin’ any autographs… at least, not ‘til we’s finalized a price for ‘em, heheh.”

“Um… right.” By the nine circles, he was incredibly silly sometimes, but you adored him for it. “They don’t particularly mind the temple being destroyed because now the queen has the chance to breed freely across the surface of the moon. The lack of containment has created a more challenging hunting environment for their eager Young Bloods. Also, the rest of the money is currently being loaded into the account, as per the agreement.”

Kraglin took solace in this, as he began to sag against the small hill of busted barrels he was leaning on. “Think we done used up a lifetime’a luck in one go.” He muttered to himself.

Thinking the meeting was over, you attempted to wish them goodbye when you were stopped by one of the Elder Yautja. He shook his great head and began chattering quickly. His words were so gravely spoken that even Yondu and Kraglin picked up on the change in mood. “Wha’s he tellin’ ya now.”

“It’s… it’s a warning.” You swallowed with some difficulty. “They were in contact with Dispatcher Yog again a few minutes before they linked up with the  _ Hispaniola  _ to let him know the job had been fulfilled. It wasn’t intentional, but they overheard him speaking with other Ravagers.”

“And?”

You bit your lip. “One of the Ravager captains has been kidnapped.”

“ _ Who? _ ” Yondu demanded. 

“Aleta Ogord.” You winced at the snarl he let loose, and did your best to soothe him. “Yondu, it’s okay. I’m sure we’ll find out more from the others.” Pulling away after a gentle squeeze to his hand, you turned back to the Yautja part so you could properly thank them.

“FUCK!” Yondu slammed his fist into the nearest object, which happened to be a rotting barrel. Wood splinters scattered across the floor at his feet as he continued to pound angrily away at the mountain of debris. “I’M GONNA FIND WHO DID IT AN’ THEY’S GONNA REGRET TH’ DAY THEY WAS FUCKIN’ HATCHED!”

“We’ll get ‘er back, Cap’n.” Kraglin’s voice shook, but he was able to firmly yank Yondu back a few steps to keep him from pummeling more barrels to death. “It ain’t been long. We’ll find ‘er… jus’ gotta track ‘er… uh… somehow.”   
  
Out of the blue, the yellow-splotched Yautja who’d spoken to you first stepped forward after momentarily taking counsel with his peers. He then churred quietly before clamping his hands down on both your shoulders. “Yondu?” The Captain snapped out of his thoughts to regard you with surprise. “This one is family to one of the Young Bloods going hunting on the Keplar moon we seeded. He wishes to thank us for giving his kin a grand opportunity for honor by joining up with us temporarily to help us search for Captain Aleta.”

Yondu wiped his bloodied hand over his face. “First… a fuckin’ bug eats mah damn jacket… then I fall down a damn hole… almost suffocate… nearly die on th’ galaxy’s worst slip’n’slide… ugh… SURE! WHY TH’ FUCK NOT?!” He threw his hands into the air. “Ain’t like shit could get weirder than it already has, right?”

“We’s all had a rough day, Cap’n.” Kraglin patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. “Yer jus’ hungry an’ tired. Might be best tah have dinner soon as possible… keep yer blood sugar up.”

“Tah hell wit’ dinner. I need a drink, mah woman, an’ then  _ bed _ .” He grabbed you around the waist. “Tell th’ spiky frogman he’s welcome tah board. I’ll open up a room.”

“His name is Shakes-His-Spear, actually. Or at least, that’s the best translation I can give.” You smiled at the Yautja, who was giving Yondu the stink-eye for handling you in what he perceived as a disrespectful manner. 

“Shakes-His-Spear?” Yondu scoffed. “A’ight, welp, c’mon Shakespeare… let’s getchya tah yer room so’s ya can compose some bloody sonnets.” He motioned Shakespeare away from the other Yautja, who bid him a curt, respectful  _ adieu _ . 

You smiled at the small group. Their species weren’t the type to hang around for long goodbyes, you knew, but this clan was clearly close knit. They must be a small group… perhaps relatively young as opposed to the multitude of other clans that traversed the universe. If these were all of their Elders, none of whom looked a day over seven hundred, then she’d have to guess the youth of the clan was what made them so reluctant to leave Shakespeare behind. Still, they were an independent lot at their core. 

You let your head fall forward in the beginning of a more submissive farewell, but Shakespeare turned and poked the nape of your neck with a growl. He crossed his arms, head held high, and performed a mimicry of a gesture Young Bloods often used. It was clear he figured the original motion you’d tried was beneath you now.

“Alright, that’s kind of you.” You nodded, knowing he’d understand. He seemed to be the most fluent in English out of them all. “ _ N’dhi-ja, n’yaka-de sain-ja’es _ .” You stood straight and bared your teeth before making a higher series of clicks with your tongue to simulate a proper Young Blood goodbye.

Shakespear’s mandibles clicked rapidly in mirth, and a raspy huff escaped his mask. “ _ Accent. Awful. _ ” His Sat-Com snarkily informed you.   
  
“I know… I know.” You said with a sigh as the two of you watched his comrades file back onto the linking pad. Their bodies wavered for a moment, and then they were zapped out of existence like an old tube-style television being turned off. “This way to the cabins.”

“You sure he ain’t gonna try an’ make trophies outta our faces or somethin’?” Kraglin muttered into your ear, casting uneasy glances over his shoulder at Shakespeare. “Keeps lookin’ at me weird.”

“He’s simply curious.” You assured him. “He can totally hear and understand you, by the way. We’re literally three feet in front of him.” You chuckled and looked back at Shakespeare, who was looking rather irked that he was being discussed. “I think his clan is a comparatively young one. He’s probably looking to bring honor to himself and them.”

“Don’t mind havin’ a Yautja on our side.” Yondu remarked loudly. “One’a them is equal tah a whole fuckin’ army.”

Shakespeare let out a haughty snort and held up two fingers, causing you to chuckle. “Two, Yondu.”

“Eh?”   
  
“Shakespeare says one Yautja is equal to  _ two _ armies. Not one.” 

“Uh… sure.” Yondu pinched his nose wearily. “Wha’ th’ actual fuck did I get mahself into?” He muttered under his breath as he led the way back to the rooms. 

He pressed his card to a random, unoccupied bunk and stepped aside. “This’un here is yer’s.” 

Shakespeare had to duck deeply to be able to wedge himself inside the door, like Gandalf inside a hobbit hole. Once inside, there was an audible, frustrated sigh as he stared at the bed. “ _ Tiny _ .”

“We’ll find you something bigger on the next stop, I promise.” You told him sympathetically. “We’re headed to Contraxia, I think-” You looked to Yondu for confirmation, who nodded. “-...right, we’re going back to Contraxia. That’s where we last saw Aleta Ogord. I’ll buy you a new bed once we get there… in the meantime… um…” You scratched your head. “We’ll… we’ll get you a spare mattress and blanket from the other rooms to put on the floor..” 

“You gonna help ‘im get settled in, snowflake?” Kraglin asked as Yondu got to work on collecting another mattress and blanket from the empty room across the hall.

“Yeah, I am.” You hauled the mattress off of the useless frame and put it on the floor. “Shakespeare, could you please shove the bedframe into the hallway? We’ll put it into the other room for now.” In response to your request, the Yautja put his shoulder lightly against the metal and gave it a gentle shove…

It went sliding out like a bolt from a laser rifle and slammed into the opposite wall with resounding  _ BANG! _ , forcing Yondu and Kraglin to leap away from the doorway to avoid being smashed. “Alright, the first thing we’re gonna have to work on is controlling your strength, my colossal friend!” You patted Shakespeare’s arm with a patient smile. “Kraglin, could you go to the Commissary and grab me… erm… I’d say four trays? Yautja eat about as much as one can expect an eight foot tall, four hundred pound person to consume… plus snacks.” You glanced upward as Shakespeare added to your statement with a few growls and clicks of his own. “Also, he enjoys granola, if you could get him some that would be lovely.”

“S-sure.” Kraglin bolted down the hallway, while Yondu still struggled to shove the heavy, metal bed frame inside one of the unoccupied rooms.

Shakespeare chittered curiously at you. “Yes, I made it quite clear you aren’t planning on skinning+ him. I have no idea why he’s not being friendlier.” You shrugged. “But don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll make tons of friends!” He gestured toward his Sat-Com and let out a low growl. “That’s probably not a good idea. Believe it or not, some people take offense to being shown the skulls of sapient creatures.”

Shakespeare’s brow twisted into surprise and he blinked before clicking at you again. His tongue tasted the air around you, and then he wrinkled the skin stretched between his mandibles, before pointing at your Captain. “His name is Yondu, the one who took off is Kraglin, and everyone just calls me Snowflake.”

“ _ Yondu _ .” Your words were repeated through the staticky, computerized voice of Shakespeare’s Sat-Com. “ _ Kraglin… Snowflake. _ ”

“Exactly!” You beamed proudly at him. “You’re good at this. I can already tell you’ll be a speedy learner. You’ll be one of the guys in no time at all!”

Yondu finally managed to push the bed the rest of the way inside the unused room with a final grunt and closed it. “Yeah, now we jus’ gotta keep ‘im from collectin’ our skulls tah use as fuckin’ bookends.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> N’dhi-ja, n’yaka-de sain-ja’es. - Goodbye, master hunters.


	16. Arrow To The Heart

Hours after Shakespeare had joined the crew and he'd been taken care of to the best of your ability, you went to visit Yondu in his room. His room was disordered, chaotic even, but in a warm way that was sort of cozy. You approached the open door slowly, wondering why it was even open in the first place as he was typically more private than that. His dresser had been shoved back into place, cases of odds and ends from planets he’d visited were once more on display, and the various framed maps -both hologram and tangible- had been returned to their rightful spots along the walls. His bed, surprisingly, was neatly made. The small nook built into the wall that served as his desk was reorganized.

This was how you knew Yondu was upset. Unless necessity dictated tidiness, he was a sloppy housekeeper. You’d visited his room only a handful of times, but you’d already recognized his penchant for disorder and dirt. And, upon coming back to check on him after dinner with Shakespeare, to find him this way; how he stared at the floor with sullen eyes? It was enough to understand. Why _wouldn’t_ he be upset? Aleta Ogord and her husband Stakar had been a better family to him than the people who’d brought him into the world, so he had every right to be so.

You could also tell Kraglin had been by, due to the presence of a lone bottle of some foreign spirits that was growing warm on the nightstand at Yondu’s side. His cheeks were still blushing from the kiss of drink, but he was currently lost in contemplatively swirling in hand a mostly-empty glass. “Yondu?”

He made a jerky movement of his head. “Come on in, sweetheart.” 

“You look like you could use some water.” You edged inside and snatched up the glass. After a quick rinse and refill from his bathroom sink, you brought it back to him. “You’ll get a massive headache if you don’t.”

He rubbed his temple; there was no better way to put it than he was exhausted. There were dark rings under his eyes, bruises that had formed in a matter of hours, as a testament to the degree of mental strain he was under. “Already had some earlier, but thanks.” He raised the glass gratefully to you and then tipped it back. When he’d chugged it dry, he slammed it back down on the nightstand and was silent.

“How long have you been drinking?” 

“Kraglin came ‘bout half an hour ago. Didn’t have th’ heart tah say I didn’t feel up tah it. Had one. Maybe two, I think, ‘fore he had tah go look after somethin’.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Boy does more’n I give ‘im credit for. Good kid.”

That made you crack a smile as you took a seat next to him on the bed. He was always grouching around like an old man; it was ‘boy’ this or ‘kid’ that. It made you wonder how old he really was, not that it truly mattered. “Yeah, he’s the best.”

“I remember when he first joined up.” He rubbed at the scar tissue that lined his prosthetic fin as he reminisced. “Scrawny thin’. Smart, though. Always knew he was smart. Best First Mate I’ve ever had.” He pointed at you. “Don’t ya dare repeat tha’, understand? Can’t have ‘im goin’ an’ gettin’ too big of a head on them scrawny shoulders… poor bastard would be liable tah tip the fuck over.”

You snickered at the image that presented. “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“Good.” He took to his feet to head to the bathroom. He smirked at you over his shoulder. “‘M gonna have a shower.”

You stared back at him without comprehension. “Okay.” His tone was oddly… inviting? “In the meantime, I’ll take the booze back to Gersh, but I promise I will be back soon.” You hopped off the bed, only for him to grab you by the arm.

He groaned. “Damn it all, woman. I wanna see ya wet an’ naked. Can’t believe I gotta spell it out!”

“Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” You shook your head. “There’s no need to beat around the bush.” You pulled your shirt over your head and began undoing the clasps at the front of your pants. “If you wanted to see my breasts, all you had to do was ask. You know, for all that Ravagers are supposed to be bawdy and wild, you’re extremely shy.”

His cheeks grew greener as he spluttered and huffed. “Fuckin’... nah, I ain’t… shit, I ain’t _ shy _!” He tossed his clothes to the floor with a noise of indignation. “Gitchyer pretty li’l ass in ‘ere ‘fore I throw ya in.”

You gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir!” You shimmied out of the rest of your clothing before hopping into the shower and setting the water to lukewarm -you’d gotten your fill of heat back on that sweltering moon. The water sluiced down over your bare skin in a heavenly cascade. After three days in a jungle with no feasible way to bathe, this was a relief to say the least. After a bit of glancing around, you saw a greenish cake of soap, a dry rag hung over a small bar in an alcove, and… nothing else. Where was the shampoo? The conditioner? The facial soap? The gentle cleanser used specifically for one’s bits?!  
  
Oh right. He was a man. A very manly man who was much too rugged for more than a single bar of soap. Alright then, you’d make do. When on Contraxia, do as the lovebots do. You sighed, picked up the bar and wetted the rag. Behind you, the glass door opened and Yondu stepped inside.  
  
He tested the water with one hand, but drew back in shock. “Tha’s fuckin’ ice-cold!”  
  
“No, it isn’t. I’m fairly certain I know what ice-cold feels like. This is lukewarm.” 

“Y’know, I can never tell if yer bein’ a wiseass or if yer really tha’ socially inexperienced.” He shook his head, but reached for the temperature calibration buttons on the shower wall. 

“OW! YONDU THAT’S BOILING!” You yelped and jerked out of the stream, nearly falling backward into him in the process.  
  
“Pretty sure I know wha’ boilin’ water feels like. This ain’t boilin’, ‘s jus’ hot.” He was grinning like a madman while you pouted up at him. “Ah, fine, fine.” He turned the temperature down to something that was still much warmer than you preferred, but was more comfortable. “Don’t wanna melt th’ snowflake.”  
  
You switched positions with him, surrendered the soap and rag, and took a step back. Mostly, it was to avoid the water that was starting to tint your skin a light shade of cyan, but it was also to get a better look at him. Seeing him completely naked wasn’t exactly a shock -you knew there were scars and had seen a lot of them, but you hadn’t seen _ all _of them. When you’d seen him without his shirt back on Contraxia, his alarming behavior had distracted you too much to pay much attention to anything else.

Along his right shoulder, travelling down in an arch across his skin to nearly meet his collarbone, was a thickly knotted keloid scar. Another, this one much more wavering and unsure, looked to have been poorly stitched -and thusly poorly healed- in hard, keratinized ridges stretching halfway down to his right pectoral. A third, this one much older and shinier than the other two, was quite obviously a burn from laserpistol. It intersected with what appeared to be an equally old scar from a stab wound that cut a path down his bicep. A multitude of others, lacerations that looked to have been deep, yet small, dotted the landscape of his upper body.  
  
From head to foot, he was… Yondu was a _ map _ of scar tissue. Across the top of his feet, you saw evidence of branding. The design was hardly recognizable however, due to the fact that it looked as if it the brands had been partially dug and sliced out of his flesh. When you raised your gaze back to meet his eyes, he was clearly uncomfortable. “You don’t have a pouch.”  
  
He looked absolutely dumbfounded. “... Huh?”

“I did a bit of reading while we were on our way to the temple.” You explained. “I thought it would be wise to read up on your people, so I did. Your race is marsupial, so I was expecting a pouch. Sorry if that seemed rude.”

“Oh...uh…” He rubbed the flat line of what you’d assumed to be a scar between his hips and his ribcage. “Women got those. Men don’t.”  
  
It was obvious now that it was not a scar you’d seen, but a flap of closed flesh where the beginning of a pouch had started, much like how the male nipple was an accessory left over from fetal development. “I see, alrighty then!” You snagged the soap out of his lax grip and began working up some suds. “You know something? I don’t have a change of clothes with me. If you wouldn’t mind doing it, would you please run back to my room after we’re done to grab my nightdress?”  
  
“Won’t be needin’ clothes.” He smirked down at you.  
  
“I’m sure that was meant to sound very hot -it was by the way, quite attractive, I loved the slight rumble to your voice- _ but _ I’d like to point out that I certainly _ will _ need clothes. Unless you enjoy the idea of me traipsing about the ship in the nude?”  
  
“Snowflake, I love ya girl, but yer nuts.” He burst into quiet chuckling that died quickly after a few moments. “Whatchya lookin’ at me like tha’ fer?”  
  
“No reason.” You brushed your fingertips over his chest; he wasn’t as hairy as you’d imagined he’d be. Most Icycklian men were fairly furry all over, but he had only a few sparse curls across his chest and a thin, sky-blue trail along his lower abdomen. Of course, you couldn’t judge him by that, seeing as you were also very lacking in body hair even by female standards. “Just… admiring, I guess.” 

He scoffed. “I’m damn lucky ya got poor fuckin’ taste in men.”

“Not poor. Different.” You shrugged off his self-disparaging comment to begin working up a soapy lather for yourself. “Anyway, back to getting clean!” The soap had a familiar, minty and herbal scent to it that was fairly pleasant. For a bar, it created an incredibly thick lather.  
  
“Ya look like a snowball.” He snickered, and pulled you back under the scalding cascade. His touch lingered wherever he found a curve he particularly liked; such as that of your thighs, the rounded flesh of your ass, and the slope of your hips. 

He rubbed his thumb over the swirling, fractal designs that branched upwards from your ankle all the way up and over your shoulder. “Never told me ya had other tattoos. Wha’ th’ hell’re these about anyway?”

“They’re traditional. ” You explained with a shrug. “Men won’t marry a woman who doesn’t have her majority tattoos. If you don’t have them, you’re nothing more than a child and society treats you as such. Once a woman has reached her majority, she enters a meditative state and the gods send her a vision of the design that best suits her.”

He rested his head on your shoulder while following the intricate flourishes and crystalline structures of black and blue ink that coiled up both sides of your body. “It’s sexy as hell.”

“Really?” You turned to give him a small peck on the cheek. “Thank you, I spent three consecutive weeks getting them done. These days, not many people opt for stick and poke, but my family is conservative, so we found a tattoo artist with experience in the old-fashioned way.”  
  
“Tha’ musta stung like a sonuva bitch.” He let out a low whistle. 

“It hurt a little, yes, but I knew they’d be worth it in the long run.”

Once you were rinsed off, he stole back the soap and quickly washed. He let you step out first, but you were too eager to escape the hot water. As instant karmic punishment for your carelessness, you slipped and fell backward. You flailed and steeled yourself for a painful landing that never came. 

He was quick enough to snag you under the arms before you hit the tiled floor. “Careful!” He lifted you up enough to set you back on your feet. He yanked a towel from a stack he kept on a metal shelf above the commode and scowled. “Don’t go breakin’ yer neck ‘tween here an’ the bed.”

Thankfully, you made it to the bed safely and were able to dry off without issue. Noticing he’d made no move to get dressed to go for your nightgown or underwear, you resigned yourself to sleeping naked. “Do you always sleep naked? Or is this a special occasion?”

“Only fuckin’ psychos sleep wit’ clothes on.” He settled under the blanket and let you rest your head on his chest.

“What if there’s a fire? You can’t exactly stop to put on pants when there’s a fire.”

“Woman, if there’s ever a fuckin’ fire in this room, it’ll be because you started it. Yer hot as hell.” He squeezed your hips and then palmed the globes of your ass for a shameless grope. “Ya sexy fuckin’ arsonist.”

You laughed and pressed your cheek against his. This felt wonderful and _ right _ ; being here with him, giggling madly with him over silly things, and just… _ talking _ . Not about anything in particular, but randomly picking and switching topics at whim. All of that mixed in amongst tender kisses, playful grabbing and daring touches eventually gave you enough courage to began grabbing back.  
  
His snickering cut off abruptly. “...Darlin’.”

“Hm?”

“Tha’s mah cock yer touchin’.” His voice sounded strained as he spoke slowly through gritted teeth.

“You grabbed between my legs, so I’m returning the favor! Revenge is a dish best served-” He reversed your positions, but kept your hand trapped between his legs. He supported his weight on one arm, while he ground your palm against his rapidly burgeoning erection. “-cold!” You squeaked.  
  
“Lookin’ tah start tha’ fire, sweetheart?” His eyes blazed brighter than star plasma. For all that he was accusing you, it felt as though _ he _was the one setting fire to your soul. 

Your heart began to race. You felt as if you were nearly bright enough to produce actual _ light _ with the blush he’d caused to spread across your face. As many times as you’d attended viewings of orgies and despite how intimacy was normalized within your culture, you weren’t especially experienced. You’d fumbled around a little with a few guys, but nothing had ever gone this far. “Got a match I can borrow?” You bravely asked, in an attempt to hide the nervous quake in your voice, but he arched a brow at you that made you realize he knew better.  
  
For a few seconds, you debated on telling him or not, but ultimately decided that it would be wrong to keep the information from him. “Sorry, I’m… not really all that experienced.” There was that, and the fact that you weren’t sure if pleasuring him would be similar acts to the ones performed by your own people. “Maybe, you could show me what you want?”

He smirked, bucking his hips against your hand. “I dunno where t’ fuckin’ start.” He confessed, his voice going black with lust. “Ya look so damn cute all spread out under me.” Yondu paused for a moment, and then his eyes gleamed. “How ‘bout a li’l warm up, huh?” He backed off the bed, but stood at the edge in a more commanding position. “On yer hands an’ knees.”

You didn’t really see the point in this, but you did as he asked. When he let out a sharp whistle, curiosity got the better of you, so you strained your neck to try to get a clue as to what was going on. He was grinning madly as the arrow hovered beside him at shoulder height. “Since yer so fond’a mah li’l helper here… I figure you an’ ‘im might wanna get better acquainted.”

“What-” Your eyes flew wide as soon as you heard a quiet, shrill command issue from him yet again and the arrow hastened to follow the order.  
  
Cold metal dragged itself along your slit, while he dragged his nails up the backs of your thighs. A number of soft, hissing notes had the arrow slowly rotating against your folds. He pressed a finger against you and made a discontented noise. “Yer barely wet, sweetheart… tha’ ain’t gonna fly. Nah, I wantchya fuckin’ _ drippin’ _ fer me.”  
  
He dropped to his back on the bed and tucked a hand behind his head. While watching you with half-lidded eyes, he grinned and sent his arrow zipping back from between your legs to playfully prod your ass. “ _ Crawl. _ ” He snarled the order out, and seemed to take quite a bit of pleasure as you were poked and herded along the bed until your head was between his legs. “Ever had a cock in yer mouth, babydoll?”  
  
You shook your head. You’d seen it done, of course, but never tried it out for yourself. You tested him with a soft lick to his head, which made him give you an amused look, before wrapping your lips around him. His hands settled on your head and his fingers tangled a little in your hair, but he was careful. He didn’t raise his hips off the bed until you’d proven you could take him all the way to the back of your throat, and even then he was considerate. For such a rough guy, he was surprisingly a gentle lover. Maybe that was just with you, though, because he seemed to have a soft light in his eyes whenever you looked up.

Gods, he was handsome. Maybe not in the traditional sense for your people, but he made your heart flutter with every touch. He made you feel safe in a way that you hadn’t realized you’d needed, and hopefully you were able to make him feel something, too. “Keep yer legs open an’ yer ass in th’ air.” He snarled, and then gave an order to his arrow that made your eyes widen as you were suddenly filled with the chill of metal. He didn’t spare you in the least, but it drew a sound from your lips that could have rivaled the ecstatic moans of Aphrodite herself.  
  
The deadly arrow suddenly flew from between your legs and he smirked at the tinge of slick and hint of blood there before yanking your head up by your hair. “On ya back.” His lip slid back over his teeth in a vicious growl. “I wanna see yer fuckin’ face when ya cum on me.”  
  
“W-what?” That… wasn’t… that did _ not _ compute.  
  
He tilted his head to the side. “Didn’tchya fuckin’ hear me?” He rolled you over himself with a swift press of your shoulders into the mattress. “I wanna see it, every second o’ ya twitchin’ an’ screamin’, I wanna _ see _ tha’.”  
  
You felt like you’d been punched in the chest as you stared up at him in awe. He seemed to know exactly what he’d said, too, as he looked more than satisfied with himself as he knocked your legs apart. He came down with his arms on either side of your head and you were fairly certain your heart stopped mid-beat. He didn’t wait for you to get comfortable this time, instead he pressed inside you without much warning. The sudden sensation of being filled made your mouth drop open in a silent scream as your eyes rolled back and your spine arched. He didn’t even touch your clit and he had made you cum.  
  
“Holy fuckin’ _ shit _ yer hot fer me, ain’tchya?”  
  
You gasped for air, completely unable to respond properly in anything other than a needy whine, which he happily responded to with a rough grind of his hips. He didn’t show a smidgen of pity at all, but instead took what he wanted as hard as he dared to go. Somehow though, he managed to make even the harshest of touches seem so full of warmth. Every single inch he stroked or caressed seemed to burst into flame as easily as taking a lighter to gasoline.  
  
“ _ No one kin e’er try t’ fuckin’ tell me ya ain’t mine. _” He bit down at the curve of her shoulder hard enough to bruise, but not to break the skin. It was a burst of pleasure-pain that made you constrict around him, drawing a possessive growl from the back of his throat. He let go, lapping at the spot and then kissing it gingerly before moving on to mark another mouthful of your skin in the same manner.

It wasn’t a surprise to find that he loved hot and hard. He melted you down, drew you out, bent and folded you. He shaped and quenched that burning desire he’d sparked inside your soul until you could only cling mindlessly to him. You lost count of how many times he teased an orgasm out of you, and you couldn’t be sure, but the idea he kept doing it simply because he knew he could crossed your mind more than once.  
  
“Yon...Y-yondu… I..” Your fingernails dug into his back and you felt a bit of blood well up under your fingertips, but that only seemed to egg him on more. “ _ Please! _ ”  
  
“Ya want me tah cum… izzat whatchya beggin’ for snowflake?” His breath was scorching against your ear, but his tongue was hotter still as he flicked it against your earlobe. “Want me tah fill ya up an’ then fuck it _ deeper? _ ”  
  
If sin had a sound, and if the devil had a voice, it would have been his. In return, you weren’t able to form coherent sentences of any sort. Snatches of words, pleas in half-choked whispers, and little cries were all you were capable of as he worked you over. One hand went to your hip, while the other curled around your shoulder, but both held you in place as something electric seemed to snap like a current through his body. His face changed, but not in a way you expected. The animalistic need was gone, and everything in his expression was soft and sweet. It was so disarming, you forgot how to breathe and could only watch him crest and then collapse in a libidinous tidal wave. It was intense enough to have you calling out his name as you came rushing behind him, battering yourself on cliffs of an emotion you’d barely explored.  
  
You were… rather certain you’d passed out for a couple of minutes afterward. There was a blank space between cumming and flitting back to groggy awareness as he shifted. His body coiled around yours, and he locked an arm securely around your stomach to press your back harder against his chest. “Ya tell anyone I’m a cuddler and I’ll fuck ya in front of the whole goddamned crew.” He growled into your hair.

“You shouldn’t threaten someone with something they’d actually like. It kind of nullifies the whole point of a threat.”

You yelped a little when he forced himself up against your ass. If there was anything to be said about his bedroom proclivities, it was that he certainly was quite remarkable in his vigor. “Snowflake, do ya really want to sleep tonight? Because you _ won’t _ if ya keep pressin’ yer luck.”


	17. Call Me Ishmael

The journey back to Contraxia was an uncomfortable undertaking. Yondu’s mood, which usually varied from majorly pissed off to mildly amused, was teeter-tottering on the edge of a knife the entire time. Every moment spent around him was hedged by tension; it got to the point where only you and Kraglin dared to even speak with him as the tiniest things seemed to spark intense flares of temper. Many times you were forced to calm him down, or even to take care of the damage he would accidentally inflict on himself in the process of punching walls, support beams, and just about anything inanimate that happened to surround him when his temper soured.   
  
The source of his poor attitude was hardly a mystery; almost as soon as he’d plotted the course to Contraxia, he was called on by the Clan Collective to attend a Ravager meeting. Aleta Ogord, as Kraglin had thoughtfully explained to you, was an extremely important figure within the one hundred clans. Her disappearance had caused an uproar of epic proportions, and thus the captain of each clan was requested to converge on Contraxia to address it. Events of such magnitude were taken incredibly seriously, and the stress of attending was sitting heavy on Yondu’s shoulders.

It was hard to blame him for his shortened fuse, but you couldn’t deny the relief of docking when the time came. The crew showed a similar weariness when they disembarked in a hurry to flock to the bars for a much-needed drink. Unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky as to be able to chug your concerns away -not that you would have wanted to anyhow.

Oddly enough, you’d also be attending this meeting. Being one of the last people to speak with Captain Aleta before she and her crew were abducted, apparently your statement was required. Thus was how you found yourself returning with Yondu to the  _ Admiral Benbow, _ and, if you’d believed yourself anxious before, this second visit was absolutely nerve-wracking in comparison. The sole comfort given was Yondu’s hand at your back, helping you to stand tall and proud as the two of you stepped inside. 

This time the place was packed, and a hundred conversations buzzed around in a drone like a hive. The diversity was what struck you most; there were Badoon natives, Shi’ar, Aakon, Eridani… and so many, many others you weren’t even aware of. It was amazing, and also terrifying, to witness these powerful people in Ravager rags gathering in one place. All of them were larger than life, each of them with defining features… all of them scarred, weathered, battle-hardened, and tempered by hardship. These were the best and brightest your people had to offer, and a warm surge of hope washed over you in that moment of realization.

“Over ‘ere!” An unfamiliar voice had you turning your attention toward a table near the door. The man who’d spoken was an Arcturan with salt and pepper hair and a lopsided smirk on his face. “Gitchyer asses o’er here.” He bellowed again, waving you both over. 

“Cap’n Stakar.” Yondu’s expression warmed somewhat as he took the seat beside him. “‘S been a mighty long time.”

“So it has!” Stakar agreed, and then he looked you over. Without batting an eyelash, he stood up, tucked his arms behind his back, and made a sharp bow. “ _ Tah-lohme. _ ”

Your eyes lit up as you respectfully copied the gesture. “ _ Tah-lohme, _ Captain.” Suddenly, all the nervous energy you’d held onto before bled out. Finally, you’d come across someone who knew enough to greet you the Icyklian way. “I’m glad to have met you, although the circumstances that have brought us together are awful. I’m so sorry about your wife.”

His grip on his drink tightened, and his lips thinned out, but those were the only outward signs of the deep grief in his eyes. “She’s alive, I’d know if she weren’t.” He let loose a heavy sigh. 

“We’ll find ‘er.” Yondu growled. “Find ‘er an’ make th’ bastards what took ‘er  _ pay. _ ” 

Stakar’s only response was a slight nod, but then he moved quickly on with questions about Yondu’s previous job. “Was tha’ shit wit’ th’ Xenomorph queen th’ reason yer so damn late?” He teased. “Some o’ us been ‘ere waitin’ fer days already.”

“Excuse me sir, but isn’t this everyone?” You glanced around the room. It was highly doubtful this little bar could hold many more people. “Who else are we waiting for?”

Stakar’s mouth dropped open, and then he shot Yondu with an accusatory glare. “Ya ain’t told ‘er?” 

“We ain’t ‘xactly had th’ time tah have a damn history lesson, Stakar.” Yondu snapped back.

“We’re waitin’ on th’ Captain.” Stakar’s voice grew softer and deadly serious.

“But I thought everyone here was a captain-”

Stakar pinched his nose in agitation. “Not  _ a _ captain…  _ the _ Captain.” He snarled out. “There be captains, and there is THE Captain. An’, since we’re stuck ‘ere waitin’, I might as well expl-”

The door creaked open, and a hush fell over the crowd. A silhouette stood crisply outlined by the setting sun, and a shadow stained the floor. You were forced to twist in your seat to get a better look.

Yondu roughly snagged your shoulder to drag you right to your feet. The man at the bar, too, straightened abruptly and abandoned the work he was doing to clap his closed fist against his opposite shoulder in the Ravager salute. “ ** _CAPTAIN ON DECK!_ ** ”

The rush of cold air that should have come with his entrance was notably absent. Instead, it seemed as if the entire room grew nearly uncomfortably warm… like standing too close to an open fireplace. Shoulders so broad they brushed the doorframe and a frame so massive, this Captain was forced to duck in order to make his way inside. Unlike the others around, he forwent the red leather his compatriots wore. Nor did he wear the signature patch at his breast, but neither of these things were necessary.

The glitter of the light across his scarlet-scaled hide was as good as any cluster of sparks. The royal purple of the frock coat, which hung to the cuffs of his boots in a weighted flare, swept along elegantly with every step like the flicker of a flame. The ground beneath his very boots seemed to quake and quiver under the weight of him. 

If he had stepped barefoot over the boards you were certain he’d have left scorch marks upon the wood, and if he’d been dressed in cinders instead of a black shirt, if he had a fire burning at his throat instead of the sanguine frock, you wouldn’t have seen much of a difference. Two sets of royal eyes… a mouthful of teeth meant to rend… fingers tipped with dagger-like claws... there’d never been a more intimidating man you’d laid eyes upon.

This wasn’t a man, truly. He was a walking wildfire, you could see it in that blazing gaze of his. It burnt the very air around him as he swept his eyes over everyone in the room. Until he came to you, that is. You were caught as if in a trap in those eyes, wanting desperately to turn your own away, but completely unable to do so. “ _ You… little…  _ ** _thief._ ** ” Your heart nearly stopped at the crocodilian purr that left his mouth. It was deadly, and you were certain you’d done nothing wrong, yet couldn’t help wracking your brain for any possible offense. 

A smirk curled his lips like burning paper. “I’ve been in thiss place for  _ five minutess _ …” His tail ticked behind him in a hypnotic sway as he stepped closer, all four arms coming up to fold across his chest as his grin widened. “An’ ye done  _ sstole  _ me heart!” 

And just like that, the tension broke, and all around you the pub erupted into laughter. It left you confused, so you turned to look at Yondu for guidance, but he was snickering as well. “Um… I’m sorry?”

He snorted at that, and then reached up to remove the feathered, cavalier hat from his head to press over his heart. “Captain Khalmae Ashmaael at yer sservice, ma’am.” He purred, and then promptly replaced his hat. “Ye musst be the lasss I heard tell of…” He elbowed Yondu hard in the side. “ _ Udonta, ye better fuckin’ keep thiss’un or I’ll be addin’ yer boness tah the lot. _ ” He lifted a scrimshaw necklace up with the tip of his claw and chuckled before letting it drop. “Hah, jusst kiddin’ sson! Look ‘ere, boy…” He pulled Yondu in under one of his arms and poked a finger into the center of his chest. “I’m tickled ye finally found ye a lady. Needed one.” He winked at you. “An’ sshe’ss a fine one, too. Ye got good tasste.”

Without waiting for an answer, the Captain pulled away and raised a fist in the air. “OI! Who’ss gonna buy yer cap’n a damn ale?!” He demanded, and rolled all four of his eyes before slamming some credits down on the bartop. “Guesss I’ll pay for me own then, ye ungrateful sswabss!”   
  
“Yondu, I’m really not sure what’s going on…” You trailed off, eyeing the reptilian captain with uncertainty. “The last time I checked, there were no hearts in my possession.”

He laughed and pulled you back down into your seat. “Captain Khal is head o’ th’ Clan Collective.” He murmured in your ear. “He was first mate tah Captain Haba, th’ very first Ravager cap’n, b’fore th’ damn  _ Nova Corp _ took Haba from us.” There was a deep-seated bitterness in his voice, and a sneer twisted his lips.

“It’s a long story, sweetheart.” Stakar chanced a glance toward Khal. “Now might not be th’ best time… Khal gits sore when it’s brought up.”

“I think I’d do anything to keep that man in a good mood.” You huddled closer to Yondu, wide-eyed and anxious yet again. “Well, now that he’s here, isn’t everything supposed to start?”

“Sounds like Khal wanted a beer first-”

“DAMN RIGHT I WANTED A BEER FIRSST!” Khal growled over his shoulder at them, and then spun on his bootheel to stalk over to their table. “I went through a hundred an’ twenty motherfuckin’ hypergatess, three warpdrive jumpss, an’ had ta fuckin’ hold me Éeri’s hair back for half o’ it! Ye know how pisssy a pregnant woman gitss after that many fuckin’ jumpss? Damn it all, sshe wass ready ta ssmassh me head in wit’ ‘er damn fryin’ pan.” He sighed in a dreamy fashion and smiled. “I love that woman tah the endss o’ the universse, I do!” He knocked back a gulp of beer, nearly draining the entire mug in one go, and then set it back down. “An’ I ain’t deaf, Stakar.” His grin faded to a simmering scowl. “If yer gonna tell ‘er the sstory, it might as well be now.”

“He were yer da, Captain.” Stakar shook his head. “Ya go ‘head an’ tell it.”

Khal’s entire demeanor cooled as his eyes grew distant. “A couple hundred cycless ago, back b’fore the nega-bomb wiped mosst o’ the fuckerss out, the Kree were holdin’ a tentative peace wit’ Xandar… a brief truce in a war that’ss sspanned nearly a thoussand yearss…” His lips curled back over his teeth in disgust as he went on. “The Kree forcefully negotiated mosst o' the termss o' the peace treaty. Agreed tah leave well enough alone if the Xandarianss allowed the Kree tah sship sslavess through Xandarian territory. Xandar's Nova Prime agreed against council from 'iss advissorss an' ignored the outcry from 'iss people.”

“That’s-”

“ _ Cowardly. _ ” Khal snarled over the lip of his mug as he brought it up. “The fuckin’ yella basstard had 'bout as much sspine as a damn worm. Not hiss people, not hiss problem… they coulda fought back, mind ye.” He emptied his beer, and before he’d even set it back down, the bartender had another ready to replace it. “But he fuckin’  _ chosse _ tah sspread ‘iss damn cheekss an’ let the damn Kree fuck ‘im.” 

A shadow of a smirk reappeared. “Haba weren’t havin’ none o’ that, an’ when he finally came acrosss a Kree sslaver for the first time he ordered ‘iss men ta take ‘er. They mutinied an’ tried handin’ ‘im over sstraight tah the Kree for violatin’ the treaty. But Haba ssurvived, rallied the sslavess aboard the sship, an’ took ‘er from the fuckin’ Kree tah go after ‘iss mutinouss crew. He won back ‘iss original sship, ejected all the worthlesss Nova Corps out the airlock, an’ renamed ‘er in the sspirit o’ freedom an’ jusstice!”

“What did he name the ship?” You asked.

“ _ The Legacy. _ ” Khal raised his mug, inspiring many others to do the same. “We Ravagerss are hiss legacy;  ** _LIBERTY OR DEATH!_ ** ” He abruptly stood, and his words were echoed solemnly. “Ssometimess what’ss right ain’t what’ss lawful, an’ ssometimess what’ss lawful ain’t right.”

“But… what happened to him?” Hadn’t he said something about the Nova Corps taking Captain Tiich?

“He lived mosst o’ ‘iss life on the run.” Khal settled back down for the moment. “Ssaved me from bein’ a Kree battle sslave, jusst like Stakar done for Yondu… adopted me… raissed me like a sson… made me ‘iss firsst mate when I were old ‘nuff.”

“It’s tradition for a Ravager captain tah adopt. We almosst never have kidss o’ our own.” Stakar stated proudly. “We raise our weanss tah be true tah the code Cap’n Tiich set down.”

“Aye.” Khal closed his eyes for a moment. “He sspent more’n fifty cycless buildin’ the Ravagerss up tah be what we are t’day. He grew tah be old… sslower. We made a sstop on a random pleassure-planet one day, an’ he inssissted on goin’ tah a bar alone. None o’ uss knew it, but a Syfon Warrior had tracked uss down an’ caught our Captain at ‘iss weakesst.” He spat venomously. “They attacked an’ ol’ man when ‘e wass alone, an’ dragged ‘im back tah Xandar tah be executed.”

“We were there.” Stakar chimed in. “‘Twere Khal, Tiich’s nephew Et… th’ whole crew.”

“All ‘cept Anola, ‘iss li’l girl.” Khal affirmed. “We  _ watched _ ‘em put ‘im on ‘iss kneess, but even when ‘e wass kneelin’ he commanded more resspect than the resst o’ ‘em combined. I didn’t look away… I couldn’t. An’ every fuckin’ time I git the chance tah raid a sstarss-damned Nova Corps sship, I do it.”

“We ain’t indiscriminate.” Stakar amended. “We let the corpsmen go, so long as they surrender peacefully. We all take slavers mainly. ‘Tween slavers, Nova Corps ships, an’ odd jobs, we make a livin’ outside the law o’ any land. We live by a strict code, but it’s a damn sight more flexible than any government.”

"Shoulda 'xplained this to ya 'fore now." Yondu grumbled under his breath. "Ah fuckin' well…"

Khal grunted, and then polished off his second drink. When the bartender offered more, he held up a hand to stop him. "Think it'ss 'bout time we got down tah bussinesss." 

He pushed himself back to his feet and all conversation immediately dropped off. "We all know why we'ss here." The hellfire wrath was back in his voice as his words boomed powerfully through the room. "One o' our own'ss been sstolen!" Outraged murmurs followed Khal's statement. "Joke'ss on them, they dunno who they done fucked wit'! I  ** _love _ ** bein' underesstimated, don't ya'll?" A hearty cheer was his answer, and he smirked. "We can't let thiss kind o' bullsshit sstand! I've already ssent word tah Disspatcher Yog tah defer all incomin' jobss-"

"'Scuse me." A Uhari captain near your own table spoke up, and although his voice wavered with apprehension at interrupting, he stood strong. "Cap'n, how's we s'posed tah feed our crew, pay fer fuel, ammo, weapon repair, an' medical supplies

Khal stormed up to the other captain and slammed all four of his hands down on the table. He peered down at him with narrowed eyes. "Ye  _ dare _ sspeak againsst yer Captain?" His claws dug into the wood as his subordinate stammered, and everyone seemed to hold their breath until Khal broke out in a savage grin. "Good on ye, boy!" He chuckled low in his throat. "A fine quesstion… ye all will be pullin' from the Clan Collective account tah keep yersselvess afloat. We all sshare an' sshare alike, thiss iss 'xactly the reasson ye pay into it every few weekss. Ain't had tah usse it in a while, there sshould be plen'y in there fer all o' uss."

The palpable tension in the room went slack. "Now tah git down tah the meat o' the matter." Khal removed a holomap projector similar, yet somewhat larger than Yondu's, from a pocket of his frock. "There woulda been word o' a naval battle nearby if there'd been a scuffle. That tellss me they took her, the crew, an' the whole damn sship… a fuckin' giant misstake." 

"Yog keeps track o' th' clanships!" A Calurnian captain popped to his feet with a grin. "Always knew tha' ancient slug was good fer  _ somethin'. _ "

"Got 'im ta activate the trackerss for me on 'ere. Thiss sshould sshow uss where they dumped 'er sship at the very leasst." Khal nodded, pleased as he tapped a password into the projector, and the entire screen changed. It autofocused on Contraxia, where a cluster of red blips could be seen gathered in one area. A couple more taps adjusted this, zooming out from Contraxia to a loading screen for a few moments, and then the system loaded a planet you weren't familiar with. However, you did recognize the galaxy it resided in as The Milky Way. 

Yondu went inexplicably rigid. "Centauri-IV." He said it like a curse, each syllable being damned as it left his tongue. His eyes were locked on the blip as it pulsed like a heart in the middle of the projected map. 

It was then his reaction made sense; he was expected to return to his home planet. Regardless of the history he had there, there could be no backing down from this. The Clan Collective had to strike with the full force available to them. 

"Good newss iss it lookss like  _ The Fire  _ iss in a rural area, an' from the timer sshe'ss been ssitin' there awhile unbothered. Eassier ta deal wit' quietly than if t'were in the middle o' ssay… the Commune o' Anthos." Khal didn't sound enthused or particularly trusting of this himself, but what choice did any of them have? The alternative was unthinkable.

"Reeks like a trap." Yondu pointed out. "Too easy."

"Aye, that it doess… which is why we'll be holdin' back." Khal zoomed out until Centauri-IV was about the size of his thumb. "We'll ssend in two sshipss ta sscout it out. Gonna need volunteerss."

"I volunteer  _ The Flames _ !" Stakar barked, a scowl on his face. 

"Very well then, we got one… who elsse?"

"I volunteer the  _ Hispaniola _ ." Yondu said through gritted teeth.

"Aye, figured as much." Khal rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully. "Awright, twenty-four o' ye will be possitioned outsside the ionisphere wit' cloakss on. I want a fingertip formation in the north, south, east, an' west, an' a fluid-two sstationed at northeast, northwest, southeast, an' southwest." He assigned coordinates, and those positions were filled in on the holomap by green dots. "The resst o' uss will be waitin' in a net formation outsside o' orbit. As ssoon as there be any ssign o' trouble, we'll be on 'em 'fore they know what'ss hit 'em."

Once everyone was clear on what they were doing, Khal closed the holomap. "Movin' tah the final order o' bussinesss; I wanna know why an' how Aleta Ogord ended up taken in the firsst fuckin' place. She had ta have ended up as a hosstage 'tween 'ere an' 'er sship." His tone was authoritative and firm. "In accordance wit' Haba's Addendum, no Ravager captain takes _ one goddamned sstep _ alone. I know there wass a sslightss trial sshe agreed ta overssee, an' that'ss why I've invited our little guesst here." Khal motioned at you. "Udonta, you an' the lasss left early by all accountss. I demand yer reassonss for doin' sso."

"The punishment called for lashes." You interjected. "My captain believed himself obliged to deliver them, but could not for reasons I'm sure you're aware of. Aleta Ogord offered to deal out the punishment on his behalf and dismissed us both. We weren't the last ones to leave her… if she was alone, it was because Captain Surge left her side."

"That'ss a bold accussation, ssweetheart." Khal's head swiveled in Surge's direction. "What ssay ye in yer defensse, Surge?" 

The other captain had gone pale, but stood up with a straight back and set shoulders. He couldn't lie, not even if he had wished to do so. "Aleta executed mah navigator, lasshed me boys bloody, an' then had the gall ta offer ta help me haul 'em back ta me sship." His voice shook with barely-restrained fury. "Aye, I left the bitch alone. If t'were Éeri bleedin' at yer feet or Anola dead on the floor, I dare ye ta claim ye'd have done better than what I did! 

In the blink of an eye, Khal had the edge of a blade held flush against Surge's throat. "A cap'n's duty iss to the Clan Collective as much as it iss ta 'iss crew an' family." The words came out in a hiss. "Aleta did damn good by yer ssorry asssess. Ye broke the code, Surge, an' now one o' our own might be dead or worsse." Like a fuse fizzling away, the coming explosion grew closer with every step Khal took in forcing Surge up against the wall. People parted to make way, scurrying far from either side, as an ominous silence descended. " ** _Ye talk o' sseein' a man'ss matelot dyin' in front o' 'im an' dare ta assk ta be undersstood?_ ** " He looked over his shoulder at Stakar. "But I won't take thiss from 'im. Every man an' woman desservess tah tah deal their own jusstice." He stepped back and turned away, his fist curling around the handle of the knife.

In a sudden whirlwind of motion, he spun back around to land a punch so brutal you could hear the crunch of bone and cartilage from where you stood. " ** _Okay, maybe jusst one._ ** " He smirked as he shook out his hand and picked a shard of tooth from under the skin of one knuckle, then tossed the knife to Stakar. "Yer all dissmisssed. We'll disscuss Surge'ss replacement after Aleta'ss ssafety or death hass been confirmed. Udonta, ye sstay ta overssee Surge'ss punishment wit' me an' Stakar."

"Snowflake ain't exactly worldly yet, cap'n." Yondu huffed. "She needs an escort back tah th' ship."

"Fair 'nuff." Khal strode to the door and peered out into the street. "Et!" An aquatan appeared in an instant at the summons. "Et, take the lasss back tah the  _ Hispaniola _ . Her captain hass ssome grievancess tah ssettle." He stepped out of your way with a gentlemanly bow. "An honor tah have met ye, ma'am. I hope tah be pressidin' over yer matelotage tah Udonta one o' thesse dayss." He gently ushered you out, pressed a kiss to your hand, and then the door was quickly shut.

The gleam in Khal's eyes honestly had you pitying Surge for a moment as Et led you away.


	18. A Spiteful Proposal

A goopy, opaque, iridescent substance slopped to the floor with every step Yondu took into your room. His shoulders were set like concrete, and his eyes flickered with a mix of white-hot rage, frustration, and dismay. In his hand, he was holding his Master datacard with a white-knuckled grip, and he raised it up under your nose with a snarl. "_ Engine won't start. _" His tone was terse, and his voice sounded strained. 

"Oh, okay. I can-"

"HOW CAN I FUCKIN' FIND ALETA OGORD IF MAH GODSDAMNED ENGINE WON'T TURN OVER?!" He roared and stepped forward, causing you to take an instinctive step backward

"Yondu, I know it's not me you're mad at, so please-" You reached up to touch his cheek. When he got like this the best way to bring him back down was to keep calm. He didn't do well being alone in a fit of temper; he needed people. As much as he pretended to be aloof, he thrived more with attention. When alone, he tended to stew and brood. "-come with me to the engine room. I'll figure out what's wrong with it while you have a drink and a snack. We'll make it a bit of a date, how's that?" 

He was completely frozen with a blank stare. The anger had dulled in an instant; you were getting better at this, at quelling his outrageous temper, but this was the first time it had cooled so quickly. One second he’d been screaming, and the next he was silently eyeing you with an indiscernible expression.

“Yondu?” Seizing the front of your jumpsuit, he yanked you into a kiss. Your lips smashed rather painfully against his own, but the moment of discomfort was forgotten as he desperately worked his mouth against yours. It was easy to melt into him, mold yourself to him like molten iron in a cast. When he let go, it was only to breathe. “You know, I _ loved _ that, but it might’ve been a little more romantic if you weren’t covered in…” You grimaced. “...what _ are _ you covered in, anyway?”

Yondu, suddenly self-aware, glanced down at the glop coating his leathers and dragged a finger through the muck. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together and then pulled them apart so that a glistening string connected them. “Fucker bled all o’er me… _ shit. _” He griped, wiping it off on his pants.

“No offense, but it looks like a kagalor used you to blow its nose. Go wash up and stuff, and I’ll meet you down in the engine room.” 

Upon reaching the engine room, and doing so far ahead of your lover, you began your search for the problem. The engine itself was housed in the stern, opposite of the fission core which was situated at the bow, and was housed by the ribs of the ship’s chassis. It was a massive construction as large as a proper house, but that made monkeying around through its guts all the easier. And that was what you loved about these old freighters, they were so much more simple, open-bodied, and didn’t so often require those finicky repair drones to fly into all those tight spaces. Sure, there was always the danger of getting your hair or clothing caught on something and ending up getting burned (or, in the worst case scenario, incinerated), although that didn’t worry you too much.   
  
Surprisingly enough, the engine rarely needed work. Honestly, that was probably why this heap was still chugging along despite having been abused to the point of dilapidation. A good engine, solid chassis, and strong fission core were what made a fine ship, after all, and this darn thing had an engine block of an iridium-cavorite alloy. Most engines of this age were created of a comparatively weak platinum-gold alloy, thus this odd Vrassian cargo courier turned trash tugger must have been built right at the cusp of the transition. It was a relic!

“Ya figure it out yet?” Yondu’s voice was muffled and granted a tinny echo by the thick walls of the metal surrounding you.

You emerged from the bowls of the engine, face covered in a thick layer of grease and grime. “Yes, and you’re not going to like it.” You informed him candidly as you snagged a support rib to haul you over the edge of the opened block. Using the bends of the fission manifold, you stepped carefully down to the floor. “It’s seized!” You threw up your hands in frustration. “It must have been all that humid air; it probably vaporlocked as soon as we had her sitting still long enough afterward.”

“What th’ fuck d’ya mean it’s fuckin’ seized?!” He bared his teeth. “I thought ya said ya’d be able tah fix it!”

His remark cut you up a bit, even if you tried not to let it show. “I _ can _ fix it.” You snapped back waspishly. “But I don’t have what I _ need _ to fix it, and I doubt we can get it in time to set off with the other Ravagers.”   
  
“Wha’zzit ya need, eh?” He slid down the wall cradling his food. “We’s drawin’ from th’ Clan Collective account, so’s it ain’t like I’m worried ‘bout prices.”

You sighed heavily as you joined him on the floor. “This thing is old school, Yondu. I need Acanti oil; it’s the only oil able to penetrate this type of engine. And we’d only be able to get that if you know anyone who still sells it. The Brood definitely don’t anymore, since Terrans took out their Acanti-farming operation! _ Do _ you know any Terrans who sell illegal space whale oil, Yondu?” You groaned, and let your head fall forward onto your arms. “Because otherwise we’re stuck, unless you think Khal will let you buy a whole new ship.”

Yondu was strangely silent, which made you pop your head up. The look on his face was contemplative, yet also hesitant. “You seriously don’t know anyone like that, do you?” You asked again with incredulity. 

“Looks like it’s ‘bout time fer a fuckin’ family reunion.” He muttered cryptically. “Git up, woman. We’re headed up tah th’ damn conference closet tah give mah boy a ring.” He tossed back the contents of the bottle he’d brought, bit a honking chunk out of his bread and cheese sandwich, and then trudged out of the engine room with you in tow.

“I’m going to meet Peter?” Really, you were kind of excited. Hopefully he’d accept you as his… erm… well, you weren’t exactly his step-mother yet. Maybe it would be best for him to consider you as a friend for now, and then the two of you could build a relationship over time. “Kraglin told me a little about him; he seems like a wonderful person.”

“He’s a good boy.” Yondu begrudgingly admitted. “Pick up th’ pace woman, we ain’t got th’ whole damn cycle!” 

“Have I ever told you how attractive it is when you address me by my female-presenting genitalia?” You quipped.

“Yer weird ass is hot too, hunny. Now git!” He demanded as he dragged you up to the third level.

Upon making it to the conference room, he immediately set to work plugging in his own Gala-Com. He typed in a brief command, and then the hologram projector button blinked red to indicate the outgoing holo-conference was being queued. It blinked only twice before the hologram rippled through the air. What you saw first was a high-definition nose, complete with tiny hairs, smushed up against the screen. “Damn it, Rocket! Why’d you push me?! Yondu’s calling!”  
  
“I didn’t push you… I jumped off of you to try and get Groot off the pipes! He’s swinging up there, do you WANT him to get hurt?!”

“Ughhh…” The face pulled away from the projector, and Peter came into better focus. He had the same scruffiness as Yondu with a respectable jawline and soft brown eyes. “Whaddya want, old man?” Aww, and there was that rough-around-the-edges-charm, too! “I’m busy!”

“Shaddup, ya ain’t too busy tah answer mah fuckin’ holo-cons once in a goddamned while.” Yondu snarled back. “Straighten up tha’ attitude or I’ma warp o’er there an’ belt ya!” He smirked at Rocket in the back. “‘Ey there, rat. How’zzit hangin’?”

“Low an’ a little to the left.” Rocket said as he dropped to the floor in a tuck and roll, his hands now wrapped around a toddler-sized Groot. “An’ sweaty!” He added bitterly. “Since Gomora won’t let anyone else touch the damn thermostat… stars, I can’t fuckin’ wait ‘til she pops out that little-” A glare from Peter silenced Rocket immediately. “...uh… I mean… I’ma go get a fertilizer salad for Groot.” 

Yondu’s jaw dropped as he slammed a fist down on the table. “Boy, why didn’tchya tell me I was gonna be a grandad?! Oooh, I’ma fuckin’ belt ya as soon as I see ya now, jus’ ya fuckin’ wait. Yer ass’s gonna be warmer than a red giant when I-”

“Look, look… forget that, what do you want?” Peter ran a hand through his hair in exasperation.

“This ‘ere rustbucket ya sold me needs oil.” Yondu glowered at his son. “Acanti oil! We’s stuck ‘ere on Contraxia ‘til we can gets it, an’ _ yer _ th’ only one I know who might have any.”

Peter eyed Yondu skeptically. “I might. If I got some… what would ya gimme for it?”

“Two hundred C.” 

“Nope, Acanti are protected by the feds now. That ain’t gonna cut it.”

“Who else is gonna buy th’ shit?!” Yondu’s face was now so close to the hologram that his nose was nearly in the projection. “You ain’t got a fuckin’ market fer shit, then it don’t matter how rare it is. C’mon boy, I taughtchya better’n tha’!”

Peter smirked.“Four hundred and fifty C or you’re just gonna hafta sit there, _ dad. _” 

Yondu gave Peter a dirty, narrow-eyed look, which slowly morphed into a mirror of the smirk his son wore. “Four hundred… an’ ya fuckin’ pay a visit tah yer old man.”

“Four twenty.”

“Four ten.”

“Gomora was talkin’ about how she felt the baby kick the other day.” Peter remarked off-handedly. “Four twenty, and we’ll letchya rub her belly.”

A vein was starting to pulse at Yondu’s temple, and he’d shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his coat. He paced a couple of steps, shot a look at Peter, and then his lips peeled back over his teeth. “_ Fine _, damnit!” He snorted. “Danglin’ mah own grandbaby in front o’ me… I raised ya too fuckin’ good, ya know tha’?! I hope yer happy... yah fuckin’ swindled me!” He pointed at Peter. “Ya ripped off yer own daddy!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever ya old fart.” Peter snickered. “See ya in a few hours.”

Yondu made a dismissive gesture with his hand as the hologram closed itself. You could see the screen of his Gala-Com as he transferred the agreed upon amount, except not with the typical scowl he had when doing so. Instead, he had a smile not on his face, but in his eyes; they were twinkling like stars.

“Do you think he’ll like me?” You asked tentatively.

Yondu slipped his Gala-Com back into his pocket. “Truth is, I dunno. Thought ‘bout it once or twice, but I really dunno. Boy’s like water… ‘e shifts e’ery which way.”

“I want him to.” 

“I know, darlin’.” He curled an arm over your shoulders. “Don’t worry ‘bout it none, a’ight? Rather ‘e likes ya or not, yer mah woman an’ yer ‘ere tah fuckin’ stay. He owes ya some basic fuckin’ respect, at th’ very least.”

The both of you split ways; him staying to hold a con with Khal in order to report his engine issues, and you leaving to tend to your own duties. There was a circuit breaker amidships that shut down due to a shorted out wire, and, as much of a pain as it was to have to pull out an entire section of the wall to follow the wire in order to find the short, you were grateful to have something to busy your hands. “This ship is gonna kill me, them, or _ all of us _ one of these days.” You mumbled to yourself as you snipped and stripped the wire. As soon as you said that, you felt a sharp zap to your finger. Your hair fluffed, your muscles tensed, and the force of your body’s reactionary jerk threw you bodily against the wall. Electricity threaded its way through your entire body, causing your heart to stutter and completely knocking the breath from your lungs.   
  
But it had been a minor shock, and you quickly recovered, although you were curious as to how it occurred. You were typically vigilant regarding safety! “Aww, come _ on! _” You pouted, glancing down and seeing you’d failed to notice a rip in the heavy-duty rubber gloves you’d been wearing.

You winced as you pulled it off; a deep layer of flesh from your finger had fused with the glove. “Ow… ow… ow… oooo… _ flying flibbertygibbets! _” You hissed, but finally worked it off with some difficulty. It honestly wasn’t that bad of a wound. This was definitely going to be a third degree burn, but that honestly could have been a heck of a lot worse. Immediately, you plunged a hand into the pocket of your jumpsuit and cracked a cold packet. You used electrical tape to wrap that, and then hastily replaced the panel you’d had to remove. Sectioning off the area was as easy as slapping up a sign in the hallway, and then you finally made your way to the med bay.

“This damn ship’s a fuckin’ death trap.” Medic Talen complained loudly as he tended you. A gel bandage was tightly secured around your finger before he wrapped it with gauze and medical tape. “Cap’n’s gonna have a damn fit when ‘e sees ya gotchyerself hurt ‘gain. I’m tellin’ ya, ma’am… you oughta jus’ stay in yer bunk whenever we’s landed on Contraxia.”

Heaving a sigh, you nodded “Once is an incident, twice is a coincidence, and thrice is a pattern. Contraxia is bad luck for me, I’ve accepted it. Thank you, Talen.” You slipped off of the cot right as static buzzed over the ship’s intercom.

“_ Snowflake, gitchyer pretty tookus on up tah th’ linkin’ pad ASAP! _”

“Welp, that’s my cue. Have a good day!”

The second level was remarkably quiet today, but that wasn’t surprising. All your shipmates were taking full advantage of this extra time on Contraxia to get drunk as lords and live it up. That was all well enough, considering it made your speedy trip to the linking pad much faster. Yondu wasn’t a patient man, even with you.

The first thing he noticed, of course, was your heavily bandaged hand. “What th’ hell happened _ this _ time?!” He fussed over it, ignoring your protests

“I just got a bit of a shock, that’s all. It’s nothing to worry about, really.” You tried to assure him. “I made the mistake of thinking I could get away with getting some work done while we’re docked here, and the universe came back to bite me for it.” Giving him a kiss seemed to do the trick in lessening his worries. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore. Talen did a marvelous job.”

With that smoothed over, he tugged you directly in front of the linking pad. No matter how much he tried to hide it, a snaggle-toothed grin kept returning to his face while waiting for Peter to board. “Asshole didn’t wanna dock. Says he ain’t stayin’ fer long.”

“That’s unfortunate, but understandable.”

“Yeaaah, well… hmph…” He crossed his arms and stared pointedly at the pad. “Got our own business anyway.” 

“After we rescue Aleta, we’ll make sure to visit him next time around.” You cuddled close under his arm and hid your face in the soft material of his coat. He, too, covered his eyes as the pad lit up the room in a blinding flash. 

“Ya know, I was almost surprised to see those credits actually sitting in my account.” Peter’s voice rang through the air. It was clearer, and slightly higher in person than it had been over the holo-con. 

“Ya know I’m fuckin’ good fer it.” Yondu stepped away from you to grab Peter’s shoulders. He sized him up by squeezing them and then looking him up and down. “Yer still skinny.” His judgement came with a frown. “Yer stayin’ fer dinner, ya skinny nugget.”

“Least I ain’t gonna be dinner.” Peter said under his breath.

“You givin’ me lip, boy?”

“Nope, I’m talkin’ back. Whatchya gonna do ‘bout it?” 

Yondu smirked at that, and then glanced behind Peter toward the motley crew behind him. “Ya brought th’ rat, twig, an’ all th’ rest, huh?” He chuckled and shook his head before motioning them off the pad. “A’ight, c’mon, git th’ sappy shit over with.” The second the invitation was dropped, the plant creature known as ‘Groot’ bolted for Yondu’s legs. “‘Eya, twig. Ya miss me?”

“Iiiiiii… am _ GROOT! _” He nuzzled into crests of the leather greaves protecting Yondu’s shins. “Grooooot, I am! Groot, groot, groot!”

“Heheh, knew it.” 

“What, don’t I get a fuckin’ hug?” Rocket was quick to follow Groot, but instead of wrapping his arms around Yondu’s leg, he gave him a solid punch in the nuts. “_ THAT’S _ for almost dyin’ the last time I saw ya, you prick.” 

Yondu’s entire face went sea-foam green, and he stumbled a bit as Rocket patted his knee. “YA MUTHERFUCKIN’ RAT, I’LL…” He wheezed, coughed, and panted for a minute. “...** _GODDAMNIT._ **” He had to brace himself against you and shifted his legs wider for a few minutes. You gently rubbed his back during the ordeal.

“So dad, where’s Kraggles?” Peter rubbed his hands together like an evil fly. “No, wait, don’t tell ‘im I’m onboard yet… I got the perfect prank in mind. He’ll never know what hit ‘im!” Then he appeared to finally notice you and his expression did a complete 180. “Wait, who’s this? Aww… no… don’t tell me Krag kicked it on a job or somethin’, did he?”

“What? No, Kraglin is still very much alive.” You offered him a bright smile. “And even if he weren’t, I’d definitely not be even a halfway decent replacement for him since I’m just a plain mechanic. Haven’t even got rags yet!” You pointed out cheerfully. “But it’s very nice to meet you, Peter. I’ve heard a lot about you from everyone.”

Yondu, having finally recovered from Rocket’s nut-cracking blow, straightened up with effort. “This ‘ere’s mah snowflake.”

“Wait… so, you’re not the new first mate-”

“Nope!”

“And you’re not a sexbot-”

“I mean, I’d like to think I’m kind of a love machine, but nope again!”

“...Am I being Punk’d? Because-” He scoffed. “-there is _ no fucking way _ this is possible.”

“Given enough time, effort, and lubricant there’s very little that’s truly impossible.”

Peter shook his head, and then got right up in Yondu’s face. “She’s _ younger than ME _!” He groused. “What the fuck, man?! You’re old as dirt an’ yer stoopin’ to robbin’ cradles now?” He snapped his head in your direction to fasten his eyes on you. “Can’t you see he’s aged like cheese?!”

“Yes,” You smiled rather dreamily, reaching for Yondu’s hand. “You’re exactly right; he _ is _ tasty. A true blue snack!”

Peter was gobsmacked, mildly grossed out, and completely done with both of you at this point. “Don’t expect me to call you mom.” He bit back childishly. 

“Boy, she’s gonna be yer step-momma, ya better at least show ‘er some damn respect or I’ll tan yer fuckin’ hide. Ya ain’t too old fer a good whoopin’.” Yondu warned him.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually…” Peter’s face twisted with shock and disbelief. “You’re not gonna… you’ve known ‘er for how long? Less than one cycle, maybe?! It took you four fucking years just to agree to let me have a pet, and then when you did, it was a motherfucking lint ball you passed off as a ‘weird, alien hamster’! JUST SO YOU COULD AVOID THE COMMITMENT OF GIVING A KID A DOG! And now you’re just… you’re gonna fucking marry some chick because she’s greased your transmission stick?!”

“Excuse me, sorry… but… um… I’ve greased a lot more than that on this ship.” You countered. “It needed a lot of TLC, thank you.”

Peter let out a groan and facepalmed, whereas Yondu was simply smirking. He had a wide, shit-eating grin on his face that told you he was up to something. Instead of blowing up as you’d thought he would, he chuckled and pulled you under his arm. “Well, I didn’t mean _ now _, but since ya done made a fuckin’ fuss…”

“Wait, no… no, Yondu… NO.”

“Yondu, _ yes. _I mean, Captain Khal is still on-planet. All’s I gots tah do is find a ring-”

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING TO FIND A RING?!”

Yondu scratched his chin and then delved a hand into one of his many pockets. “Good question.” He dug around for a second, and then came up with a handful of various bits of jewelry. “Let’s see ‘ere… nope, too big… nah, that’un’s a toe ring…”

“Where the hell did you even get those?!” Peter demanded. “I thought you quit pickpocketing years ago, asshole!”

Yondu snickered to himself as he continued to pick through the odds and ends, stuffing the rejects back into his pocket. “How _ dare _ ya accuse me… a sophisticated gentleman o’ fortune…” He found a platinum band and held it up to the light. The blue stone in the center flashed with a bright, elegant fire. “... o’ petty thievery!” He gave it a closer look and frowned. “Oop, this’un’s got a li’l blood on it… gimme a sec.” He scratched at it with his thumbnail, polished it on his shirt, and then took your hand. “‘Ey there, pretty lady.” He winked roguishly. “I heard ya liked me… an’ I like ya, too.” 

“Oh, gimme a break-” Peter grumbled.

“An’ I was thinkin’...” He drew closer, almost close enough to brush his lips over yours. “I was thinkin’ o’ askin’ ya a mighty important question.” He arched a brow as he lifted the ring up to you. “Marry me?”

“Yes! Of course!” You threw your arms around his neck and closed the distance between the two of you to lock his lips in a happy smooch. “Wait, are we going to have the ceremony now… or…?”

“Heheh, why not? Everybody’s ‘ere now, how often duzzat happen?” He appeared extremely pleased with himself, quite well and truly chuffed. “Go gitchyer best dress; we’s gittin’ hitched!”

“OH! You meant _ now _ now?! Like tonight? Why?” Oh, your father was going to be so upset at missing the wedding. Well, maybe he could be there if they set up a holo-con or something. You should definitely ask about that later.

“Cuz it pisses Peter the fuck off, that’s why!” He cackled as he slapped your butt. “Now, g’on! I gotta go shave an’ find Kraglin. He’ll git a kick outta bein’ best man.”

Peter stomped back up to Yondu and looked him dead in the eye. “You’re doing this to spite me!”

“Boy, if there’s one lesson I ever taughtchya, it’s tha' spite is th’ best damn reason tah do anythin’.”


	19. A Shotgun Wedding

The nicest dress you had in your possession was a traditional Icyklian robe. Typically, it would have been saved for affairs such as meetings between tribes, which was a little lower class than what you should have worn as your bridal gown, but didn’t deter you at all. Being extremely proud of your heritage, you wished to be married in a dress reflecting your culture. After the quickest shower you’d taken in your entire life, you hurried to get dressed.

The dress itself had a petticoat of soft, brain-tanned, bleached white suede with a black fur bottom trim. An embroidered blue silk bodice with false juliet undersleeves was paired with it, and over that was worn a hooded, pagoda-sleeved train of yet more suede trimmed again in black fur. The train was secured at your throat by a sapphire cabochon clasp. 

If this wedding had taken place on your home planet, you’d have a leather wedding headband of beaded embroidery, but your father wasn’t here to make you one of those. Even if he had been, there wouldn’t have been time! Therefore, you were forced to improvise and chose to wear one of the headbands you had on hand instead. The one you picked more or less fit the dress; it was simplistic, cut into a wavy pattern, and a smaller (synthetic, this time) sapphire cabochon was set into the black leather. It tied under the end of the short braid you sported, and, after slipping your feet into a pair of blue-dyed moccasins, you took your rarely-used facepaints from their bag.

From your decolletage to your hairline, you swiped on a delicate ice-white paint and set it with translucent powder. Then, starting from your hairline directly over both eyes and down to your jaw, you outlined two thick lines that were afterward filled in with a heavy layer of khol. Your lips were lined with a silvery, metallic pencil and coated in sky-blue lipstick. Over this, you put a heavy gloss until your lips shone as brightly at the gemstones at your head and throat.

It was then that you took the time to gaze at the reflection in the mirror. Unlike so many people who dreamed of this moment in their lives, you’d always been… less hopeful. More pragmatic, so to speak. Some might blame it on a lifetime of being deemed plain, but you considered it more to do with your personality and mindset. To you, the world was just like an engine; it was a collection of parts that, without the smallest piece, wouldn’t work. Everyone had their place, even if it took them a while to understand or find it. To you, nearly every problem could be fixed with equal amounts of objectivity and creativity.  
  
That is what kept you so chipper all the time; a deep-seated faith that enough patience could solve most things. Taking one step at a time, without allowing one’s gas tank to combust or run dry, was important. It kept you going, even when so many of the other people your own age had fully decided to pursue romance, their careers, or spiritual enlightenment. All the while, you’d kept fiddling with your gears and rachets without being concerned about finding happiness in anything other than the work you’d completed or your library’s worth of books. You’d been happy as you were, but now your heart positively quickened with joy every time you set your eyes on a certain charming vagabond.

That brought a smile to your face. It was hard to believe, even as you stared at yourself in the mirror, that this was truly happening. “Wow…” You breathed to yourself as the water washed the make-up off your hands. “I have to be the luckiest person in the universe!” It felt amazing to think it, but even more wonderful to say it aloud. Your heart was fluttering in your chest as you slipped on baby-blue silk gloves, checked yourself one more time in the mirror, and then cautiously stepped out of your room.

That was when it occurred to you; there was no one here to-

“I hope ya don’t mind-” A voice drawled from behind you. “-but I heard yer daddy ain’t gonna be able tah make it tah the ceremony in person.” Turning around revealed the voice to belong to Stakar. He was smiling, and when he smiled it smoothed away all the wrinkles time had gifted him. “Figured I’d come down ‘ere an’ offer mahself instead.” He offered an arm to you, which you were elated to take. “Y’know, I thought I lost mah boy a while back… not jus’ once, but twice. There ain’t nuthin’ worse than losin’ a child, ‘specially if ‘s tah their own demons.” He closed his eyes for a second, allowing his shoulders to droop wearily. “First, I thought he’d lost his way. Then… I thought he’d lost ‘is life. I’ll never forget how it felt either time, not ‘til mah dyin’ day.”

“I never been prouder o’ ‘im than t’day.” He mused. “Not ‘cuz he’s restored ‘is own reputation an’ rebuilt ‘imself when even _ I’d _ lost faith in ‘im, but ‘cuz he’s finally figured out how tah be happy. He used tah think it came from money, ya know? I won’t kid ya, darlin’, he’s still a greedy li’l blueberry, but it ain’t all he’s about now. I can see it; he’s let go o’ a lotta that buried bitterness ‘e were holdin’ onta fer a long time. Peter… Kraglin… now you… he’s figured out what matters. Took ‘im fuckin’ long ‘nuff, but ‘ey, he always was a thick-headed kid.”

“He’s stubborn.” You stated firmly. “His temper gets the best of him more often than not, and he’s got an eye for shiny things. Sometimes, he doesn’t know how to exactly say what he means, so he gets frustrated and huffy instead. But he’s also kind… caring… sweet… passionate… and he’s terribly funny. I love him for all of that, not just the good parts, but the not-so-great parts, too.”

He chuckled to himself and nodded. “Yep, I could tell. When yer old as I am, ya know how tah tell when things is gonna work out. Didn’t even hafta know ya fer long tah see this was gonna be how it ended… well, not end, per se. This’s jus’ th’ beginnin’.” He studied you. “Ya look awful pretty, missy. I hope yer able tah keep all those pretty things from gittin’ messed up.”

“What, will someone be pouring animal blood all over me? I don’t have anything to protect this dress!” You were suddenly horrified. This was the most expensive thing you owned! 

“Animal blood?”

“Well, it’s tradition to douse the bride and groom in animal blood where I’m from. That’s why all of our wedding dresses are typically red or black. Did you expect me to have an actual wedding dress hidden in my closet somewhere?”

“No, nuthin’ like that.” He scratched his head. “But clearly ya never been tah a Ravager weddin’ b’fore. We git a li’l wild.”

“Oh, well, I think I can handle it then.” 

“Oookay, if yah really think so.” He opened the door ahead of the two of you and glanced around before stepping out into the snow. “We’re headed tah a frozen lake outside th’ port town, ‘ccordin’ tah Yondu. Th’ other captains an’ crews are settin’ everythin’ up right ‘bout now, I expect. Prolly buyin’ every last keg o’ beer, bottle o’ spirits, an’ scrap o’ food they can, honestly. Finny’ll be keepin’ ‘em in line, I expect, so it’s all goin’ smooth as butter.”

“Finny?”

“Finnikin Smallfry… ship-mother. Was Haba’s wife. These days she mostly mother hen’s the hell outta th’ rest o’ us.” He elaborated as he searched the streets for any signs of the other Ravager clans. “Damn, looks like they cleared th’ streets already.” He muttered, clearly impressed. “Guess that means we’re nearly ready.”

“Well, I wasn’t anticipating anything so last minute to be incredibly fancy. As long as there’s a place for everyone, food enough to satisfy them all, and a good amount of alcohol being served, I think any Ravager would say the wedding was a dream.”

“Heh, good point.” He conceded. “Watch yer step, that bit o’er there looks slick as dog shit.” He led you around a patch of black ice in the street and pressed onward until the lights and buildings around became sparser and dimmer. Eventually, the two of you left the town behind altogether and were now walking through a stretch of arctic tundra. “Contraxia summers are so damn pretty, don’t ya think?” He asked with a smirk.

“Absolutely! The sunsets are gorgeous, too.” You commented, eyes on the horizon. “It reminds me of home, honestly…”

“Maybe ya could convince ‘im tah pay ‘is new in-laws a visit.” He suggested. “I bet they’re _ ecstatic _ tah have an outlaw fer an in-law.”

“Knowing my father, Yondu should probably wear a little extra armor when we do.” You admitted with a slightly nervous laugh. “But he can’t be too upset. Yondu’s the entire reason my little brother is eating well right now.”

The sky was a brilliant, jewel-bright backdrop for the expanse of lake, which was decorated by diamonds of ice; glaciers of crystalline beauty that reflected the light of the setting sun with an intensity outshining any true gem. Snow gently fell from the patchy cloud cover overhead in a glittering cascade through strings of colorful lights that had been hung from the branches of several surrounding trees. 

Rows upon rows had been formed like a miracle out of snowbanks, likely the work of one of those among the Ravagers who had telepathy or similar abilities, and barrels of alcohol were being chilled in the lake water itself. Several tables, all of them lined with steaming food, had somehow been mustered as well. There was an aisle, of course, leading down between the makeshift stands to the very edge of the lake shore. There were a few people still milling about, fixing things here and there, but most had already claimed seats. “There must be thousands of-” 

“7,481… an’ a half.” Stakar declared proudly.

“...Relian?”

“_ Relian. _” He sighed.

The closest seats were occupied by Yondu’s clan, and the front row was entirely dedicated to his dearest family. And at the other end of the aisle ahead of you stood Captain Khal. He had left his grand coat behind in favor of a much more simple, obsidian set of leathers with a Ravager-style inner coat of golden satin. This time, he did wear the Legacy Flames over his heart. Behind him, they’d hoisted the Ravager flag; crossed bones burning in violet and blood-red flames. The flames were animated by the rippling of a gentle breeze, and he was grinning broadly as could be.

Beside him, a small group of Ravagers with instruments from across the stars were seated or standing depending on the requirements to play. Currently, they were silently tuning them and chatting among themselves. “Iss it sstraight?”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” said a Krylorian, whom you hadn’t noticed because she’d been standing mostly behind Khal fixing the flag. “Oh!” She tugged on Khal’s sleeve. “Looks like the bride’s arrived!” She cupped her hands around her mouth in order to be heard. “TAKE YOUR PLACES EVERYONE!”

The remaining Ravagers finished what they were doing and then made wild dashes to seat themselves wherever space was available. The Krylorian woman, considering she was pregnant, chose to avoid the chore of walking by propelling herself forward through the snow with a psionic push toward the stands. Kraglin rushed to take her place, and then from behind the flag itself Yondu stepped forward.

He was the cleanest you’d ever seen him, not a smudge to be found, and even his nails had been brushed and filed. His coat was buffed so that the original color could be recognized as a deep burgundy; he’d actually gone so far as to change out of the harness and armor he always wore. A simple, loose shirt and trousers with boots polished to a shine was all he required to look his best. Taking one look at you, he paused mid-step long enough for Khal to be forced to snag his arm and yank him into position. 

A short Xandarian scurried up to Stakar with a Gala-Com in hand. “Oi!” She strapped it to his wrist. “I linked it up ta the con signal. Th’ lass’s family’s got a live feed!” True to what she’d said, your family could clearly be seen on the screen. All of them were dressed well, although they looked somewhat befuddled. Your baby sister was cradled in your father’s arms, while your mother was trying to make your adolescent brother sit still.

“Thanks, Finny.” Stakar make sure to keep his arm level as he led you forward. “Evenin’ sir… ma’am. Thank ya fer choosin’ Ravager Airlines, this is yer captain Stakar speakin’. If I point ya left, you’ll see yer daughter -say hi, darlin’- all dolled up tah marry mah boy. If I point ya right, yah can see th’ buffet an’ booze is all lined up. Oh, an’ _ there’s _ mah son straight ahead… Looks like ‘e actually took a damn bath fer this, too! That’s a sure-fire guarantee he loves ‘er right there, yup.” He marched you straight up the aisle, occasionally narrating for your family’s benefit, and once he’d delivered you to Yondu he put your hand into Yondu’s and stepped off to the side.

Kraglin applied a microphone patch to Khal’s chest. “There ya go, Cap’n Ashmaael, sir.” Then he handed Khal a thick, leather-bound book that appeared to be a religious text of some type.  
  
“Thank ye, sson.” Khal flipped through the book, cleared his throat, and then promptly tossed it right over his shoulder into the lake. “Welcome mah Clan brotherss, ssissterss, an’ people o’ non-binary desscription! We’re gathered ‘ere t’day tah eat, drink, an’...oh yeah, join thesse two trouble-makerss in unholy matrimony, too, I guesss, hah!”

“Captain Yondu Udonta o’ Clan Udonta, given rank by Captain Stakar Ogord o’ Clan Ogord,” He began. “Ye stand b’fore th’ Clan Collective t’day an’ make a promise on th’ Legacy Flamess. D’ya come ‘ere o’ yer own accord, an’ wit’ an undersstandin’ o’ what that meanss?”

“I come ‘ere o’ mah own will. A promise on th’ Flames is eternal an’ irrevocable, it is meant tah be honored ‘til th’ final star dies.”

Your name was also declared and the same was asked of you, and you responded in kind allowing Khal to continue on. “Ringss!”

“Right ‘ere, sir!” Kraglin stepped forward with a smile and handed first Yondu, and then you, your respective rings.

“The Ravager weddin’ ring is always worn on th’ middle finger becausse fuck th’ universse, yer happy an’ that’ss what truly fuckin’ matterss. ” Khal was now grinning up a storm. “Either one o’ ya got vowss ye wanna ssay in front o’ th’ Flames?” 

“Yeah, I got somethin’ tah say.” Yondu slipped his ring onto his finger, and then met your eye. “I ain’t askin’ fer forever, I’m askin’ fer now. I want th’ now, an’ maybe forever’ll happen along th’ way. While I gotchya, yer gonna know ye b’long tah me, but more importantly ya b’long tah yerself. This here ring means whatever ya make it mean, not anythin’ less or more, an’ soon as ya feel like it means nuthin’ yer welcome tah take it off.”

Khal turned his head toward you expectantly, and you nodded. “When you gave my ring, I had no idea of what its past might have been. Now though, I’m certain of its future because I love you and I know I’ll always love you, even if the _ way _ I love you ever happens to change.” 

There was a sudden outburst in the crowd of loud, emotional tears. When you glanced that way, you saw Rocket rolling his eyes as he handed a scrap of cloth to the massive Kylosian next to him. After blowing his nose like a horn, he seemed to settle down.

“Right then, as yer Captain I now pronounce ye husband an’ wife. Now fuckin’ kisss sso we can crack open th’ booze!” Cheers followed Yondu yanking you in for a bruising kiss, although it was a mystery if that was because everyone was now free to drink and eat as much as they pleased or because they were genuinely happy for you. Either way, you were just as happy as everyone else.

Yondu’s crew was served first, and then everyone else was left to line up for food on their own. Given that there were literally thousands of people in attendance, it understandably took a while even with the assistance of the several telepathically gifted amongst the guests. Luckily, Finny and Khal’s own wife Éeri (having learnt the Krylorian woman’s name from Yondu), were there to more or less keep order amongst the ravenous Ravagers ravishing the buffet table. 

However if feeding nearly eight thousand rowdy Ravagers was a task, then _ meeting _ all eight thousand was next to impossible. Instead, you were introduced to each of the ninety-six other captains with whom you hadn’t yet been properly acquainted. After that ordeal, you finally were able to meet with the rest of Peter’s little gang. Peter himself was surly, and kept shooting you glares, but the others seemed relatively friendly.

“We were able to get into contact with the Intergalactic Prosperity Association.” Gomora said in explanation of her pregnancy to Yondu. “There were preserved sperm and ova in their storage facilities from a population bottleneck several thousand cycles ago. Considering my planet was known for overpopulation before Thanos attacked, they believed they’d never need them.” 

“Ain’t tha’ somethin’?” Yondu peered at her rounded belly, unable to wipe the grin off his face. He’d taken full advantage of his deal with Peter and was rubbing over her stomach with a look that bordered on gleeful. Suddenly, his entire face lit up like a star gone supernova. “I felt th’ li’l bugger kick! Oof, tha’ were a strong’un, they’re gonna be pullin’ some strong ass punches when they’s grown, I bet!”

It was cute, unbearably so, to watch him get so worked up. And while he enjoyed himself chatting with Gamora, you chose to familiarize yourself with Drax, Mantis, and Rocket. You’d tried several times to engage Peter in conversation, but he refused to acknowledge your attempts until you gave up. “So, is it true you guys picked up a Yautja warrior?” Rocket inquired eagerly, and clambered onto Drax’s shoulders. “Where is he?! C’mooon, ya gotta introduce me. I’ve been wanting to get my hands on some Yautjan tech for ages.”

“Well, I’m not exactly sure where-” You turned and, seemingly out of thin air, Shakespeare appeared. “Oh, there you are! Have you been cloaking this entire time?” 

“_ Yes. _ ” Shakespeare’s Sat-com replied. “ _ Bodyguard. _”

“What?” You were confused by his meaning. He wouldn’t be guarding anyone he saw as a Young Blood. Perhaps he’d confused his words, although that also didn’t make much sense. He’d been making a lot of progress in his lessons in Commonish recently with you. Relaying your confusion to him in Yautjan, he shook his head fervently and tapped his Sat-com again.

“_ Bodyguard. _” He then pointed directly at Drax.

As soon as he did so, everything clicked into place, and you let out a quiet giggle. How sweet! But your amusement did not last long, as Drax had leapt to his feet. “Is this one implying I am not able to take care of myself?!” He bellowed his accusation. “I will happily prove it to him as soon as the wedding has ended!”

Shakespeare let out a pleased trill and a choppy hiss that sounded remarkably close to a chuckle. Then, from behind his back, he presented a dead weasel-like animal. The thing had moss-green fur and eight eyes, and he held it by its tail. In front of everyone, he gutted and skinned it before offering the raw meat and fluffy tail to Drax. 

Drax leaned in close to you. “Why is he presenting me with food? I thought I was to fight him! And what am I meant to do with the fur, it is too small to make a coat out of. I would be extremely cold if I tried to wear that!” He inquired loudly right into your ear.

You tried to bite back another giggle-fit, but it was too adorable. “I… I don’t know how to say this, Drax, but… Shakespeare thinks you’re a woman. He’s trying to court you.”

Drax took a solid stance, and then pointed toward his crotch while looking directly at Shakespeare. “I HAVE A PENIS.”

You shared a look with your Yautjan friend, and he seemed puzzled for a moment. Then, he let out an offhand series of clicks and nonchalantly shrugged. “Um… he doesn’t… care?” Shakespeare nudged you pointedly with a claw. “And he still thinks you’re pretty.” Another nudge. “_ And _ you have very sculpted muscles, he’d love to wrestle you.” Yet another nudge. “Naked.” One more nudge. “There’d be sweets involved, too, apparently.” At this, Shakespeare nodded and gave you the thumbs-up.

“Our love-making would topple cities!” Drax concluded after giving it some thought, and then grabbed Shakespeare by the waist. “Very well then. This is my lifepartner now!” He declared to all those around him. “IF ANY OF YOU TOUCH HIM, I WILL CHOKE YOU TO DEATH WITH YOUR OWN INTESTINES.” With that, he started to drag Shakespeare away from the crowd.

Just before he was manhandled out of earshot, Shakespeare tapped his Sat-com one final time. “_ Still got it! _”

At this Peter popped out of his seat with renewed energy. “Guys, do you know what this makes us?!” He crowed. 

Rocket, sensing trouble, rubbed at his temple. “I know I’m gonna regret this…” He growled, and then glared up at Starlord. “No Quill, I don't know what this makes us.”

Peter struck a victorious pose. “_ THE GUARDIANS OF THE GAY-LAXY!! _” A chorus of groans came from any and all who’d heard him.

You sighed, shook your head, and caught Yondu’s eye. “He gets that from your side of the family.”

Yondu grabbed Peter by the back of his jacket and shook him. “Boy, yer s’posed tah save th’ dad jokes fer after th’ tyke’s born, ya idjit!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've literally had that scene in my head since I finished chapter 3. XDDD


End file.
